Cross
by artbug
Summary: Cross is not just a name, but a state of mind. He always hated children, but after picking up an utterly useless apprentice he has plenty of time to adjust... if he dosen't kill the brat first. Sequel to Mana.
1. Chapter 1

Here we are.this story is a continuation of Mana; so if you haven't read it first, i suggest you do so before getting all confused. i must add that Cross is not a nice man and may use bad language.

i think it would be a good idea to mention that, other than my origional characters, i have no rights to these characters nor do i profit by them. they are the intellectual property of their creator.

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General Cross Marion was utterly peeved. He stretched his long legs and tried to get comfortable. It was freezing and the stone crypt he sat upon gave him no place to lean back. He pulled his cigarettes from his inside coat pocket. It was his third coffin nail that night. He was planning to cut back when things settled down, but for now he lit the thin cylinder and inhaled appreciatively. With his startling red hair and the copious amounts of smoke and fogged breath swirling around him, he looked like a dragon. The description matched his temper. This dragon was utterly peeved. _Damn kid…_

He spent the last three nights watching the child in the graveyard. Cross wished something would happen to break up the monotony. Each night was the same as the last. The pale boy with the hollow eyes would walk out the stone crucifix, lace his arms around it and start his vigil. He just sat there, staring off into space with dead eyes. Sometimes he rocked and let the back of his head thump softly on the granite. _Maybe he'll crack his skull and I can go get some sleep… _

It had turned into a routine. Eventually, one of the adults that cared for him would come. He just ignored them; his world had ended. They'd send the big man if he didn't come with them willingly. He'd lift the tiny body over his shoulder and physically haul him back to the house. Cross knew where the house was; he had visited four days ago while the sick man was dying.

The brat was going to do something stupid; he knew it. Cross recognized his expression. He saw it in the house when he came back to check on them. The kid's world had ended; he wasn't going to speak or eat unless forced. He wasn't going to do anything without being forced. He was passively trying to die. If he was older he would have probably taken the initiative and killed himself. He wasn't worried about him though. A sensitive man would have been worried, but Cross Marion was not a sensitive man.

He was practically begging for the Earl; the boy was a perfect target. So, each night Cross would sit here and watch and wait and wish he was somewhere else.

This whole mess started with a routine inspection of the local red light district four days ago. He had just settled into a couch with a charming set of twins and their trusting cousin when an exquisite specimen of the fair sex approached him. She was covered in tattoos. Elegant hips swayed in just the right way. Beautiful.

"Excuse me…" she said shyly as she leaned over the arm of the couch. "Are you a priest?" the question caught him a bit off guard, but she looked so hopeful and he had such a wonderful view down her blouse.

"Yes. Yes I am my child." This could be a fun game.

She brushed her hair behind her ear. "Would you come home with me… we need to confess our sins…" _We? Oh please… have a sister… _Like a fool whose head was somewhere other than the top of his neck he followed her.

A blond athletic woman met them at the door. "Maddie, is this him?" Cross decided that coming along was, indeed, a very good idea. He paused in the door to get a better view of their backsides, a _very_ good idea. A third girl appeared in his field of vision. She was thinner than he would have liked, but her long white blond hair more than made up for it. _This is too good to be true… _he thought. Naturally it was.

The colorful woman led him upstairs and to a bedroom. _Aw damn… she was serious_. He ended up sulking and listening to a dying man's confession. It was all the usual boring things people confess. Like it or not, he was a priest after a fashion. Cross had listened to confessions before; they were pretty much all the same. He was thinking about what he'd like for lunch when the dying man surprised him.

"I killed a man."

Cross stared at him. It had started his mind working and he was instantly suspicious. How could _this_ guy kill someone? He was in terrible shape; there was a cane leaning against the wall. The man was a cripple. It was probably the consumption that had ravaged his body. He tried to imagine him filled out a bit; add a bit of lean muscle, some color to his skin. It wasn't a bad image.

Still, he couldn't see the man actually killing someone; he seemed too compassionate… unless… Cross had to interrupt him and ask; he had to make sure. The Innocence he carried had been reacting like mad since he got to this dump of a town. He could tell the man was compatible though at this stage it was hardly worth mentioning. As he drilled him for information, he listened for a certain set of words, a particular description of how it felt.

The man had answered that he felt cold. That he enjoyed doing it. That set off warning bells, but he also admitted to guilt and remorse, that contradicted it. Cross grabbed the man's surprised face to check for the final telltale sign. His forehead was clear; not a mark, just soft skin. They way the man closed his eyes at the touch suggested to him that the skin was somewhat sensitized. He was an odd case, no definite proof in either direction. Cross wasn't puzzled; a dim man would be puzzled, but Cross Marion was not a dim man.

It didn't matter, he decided. The man would be dead by morning. He gave him some priestly words of comfort. Things someone would need to hear at the end of life; he'd done this part more times than he'd like to remember. Cross left without a word to anyone.

On a whim and morbid curiosity, he went back to the house the next morning. It was awkward. The athletic woman answered the door, baby at her breast. Cross was glad for the glimpse, but it wasn't the time or place. There was also a possessive husband. Not that it had ever stopped him before. There was a bet floating around the upper levels of the Order as to whether he would die by Akuma or by angry husband.

It was silent there in the house, thick with grief. He met the men of the house with brief words of condolences. They were busy getting the burial arranged. The body was already out of the house. It would be in the ground by the afternoon. The three women were crying; he hated the sound of women crying.

"I just wanted to check up on you." He explained lamely; the Innocence hadn't stopped resonating after the man died and he suspected it was the child the man spoke of. He needed to look in to it. "I'm here if you need to talk…" Oddly he ended up helping a foul mouthed girl make coffee and comfort food.

The kid was in the kitchen, like a little ghost at the table. Cross didn't even see him till one of the girls pointed him out. He was staring straight ahead; there was nothing behind those wide brown eyes. It was disturbing, no outward signs of grief, no tears, just nothing; it was soul deep grief, so intense and so all consuming that he had shut down. He had already resigned himself to follow his father.

It made Cross sick. It was weak, pathetic, and so incredibly stupid to shut down so completely. He looked at the apple he was slicing; he guessed they were making pie; he didn't really care but planned on eating it regardless. He gave the core a quick practice toss and lobbed it at the boy's head. _Brat…_

Cross couldn't have been more surprised when he caught it. The boy didn't notice he did it; he didn't look he just raised his hand and left handedly took it from the air. He let it fall to the table. The tattooed woman called the boy 'baby' and pet his brown hair. She patiently pulled him to the other room and set him on the couch. He didn't fight or resist he was operating on automatic.

"I was ready for screaming…" She told Cross when she rejoined him in the kitchen. "I was ready for crying. I was ready for just about anything but this…" She rubbed the bridge of the nose. The foul mouthed girl patted her shoulder; with an understanding smile and softly muttered four letter word she left to give them some privacy.

Cross sat, reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. She had roses etched on it. "I'm so sorry, Ms…?"

"Madeline. Madeline Walker." She sighed and almost cried. "He tried so hard to make it to our first anniversary." Cross raised an eyebrow; he had suspected a girl of her profession to wed for a sugar daddy. Their differences in age were obvious enough for it to make sense. But, he wasn't rich and the tone of her voice hinted at a very deep loving relationship. Cross found it sweet in a novel sort of way.

"I expected something different with Allen… I knew he was going to take it much harder than any of us. After we told him, we let him see him… Mana's body I mean, before the funeral guys came to take it. It was only fair, he deserved a goodbye. He went pale, had to sit down on the floor. He reached up and touched his hand, he said…"

"Its alright, you can go on…" Cross encouraged the pretty widow, desperately avoiding lewd thoughts and wishing he had met her under different circumstances.

"I'm not sure what he really said… I think he said 'I'm coming too.' God I hope I'm wrong…that I misheard or something."

Cross made a thoughtful sound and pretended that he cared. "Don't leave him alone. Keep someone with him at all times."

"Right… I'll stay with him; pick up where Mana... left off..." She abruptly broke down and let out a heart wrenching sob. "My honey!" she howled. "I've lost my honey…"

Cross shifted awkwardly in his chair. Her grief was making him uncomfortable. He wanted to go back to his room at the inn, order food and a pretty girl to eat it with, but the heavenly smell of the pie in the over would hold him there in the warm kitchen. This was his good deed for the year; he would stay and listen.

"My husband! Gah! My honey… my sweet honey. I didn't tell him!" she was near screaming. "I didn't tell him… didn't want him to be upset, wanted him to die with no regrets, but… I think I was wrong! He would have been happy if I told him… and now it's too late! I lost my chance. He would be happy if he knew; he'd be proud…" she hunched over, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"Ohh…" Cross whispered as he realized what she was talking about. "You're carrying his child, aren't you…"

She sobbed hysterically and let her head thud on the table. "Then you _have to_ keep going. I'm sorry, but he's gone. No matter how hard you wish, he _can't_ come back. If anyone tells you different, they're lying. Run from people like that; they can't bring him back. It will only hurt you and you have to live for his children; the one you carry and the boy in the other room. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes… put them first." She sniffled and took a few moments to compose herself. "Thank you… for letting me get that out of my system." She examined him with reddened eyes. "You're not a real priest are you? Not in the normal sense, anyways… I've got you figured out. Still…" She wiped her eyes and pushed her hair from her face. "Please, stay and eat with us."

Cross ate with them and left. He had taken care of the woman. She was probably strong enough to resist any temptation the Earl might offer. He just had to watch the child. That night was his first in the graveyard.

He practiced blowing smoke rings and watched the child from the corner of his eye. It was so boring and the flesh under his half mask was itching. He almost _wanted_ the Earl to show up; he almost enjoyed their little meetings. Cross had the bad habit of taking unnecessary risks, just to liven things up. For four nights he watched and waited. Someone always came and carried the boy home; usually the brother of the foul mouthed girl.

He always greeted him warmly and made small talk in his stilted English; Cross enjoyed talking to the big man. He learned his name was Ernest, or Ernie, whichever name suited him at the moment. He was also a circus performer; Cross found it fascinating. The man was taller than he was and on some level that bothered Cross.

"Allen is not eating, ya." He told him on their fourth meeting. "Is not sick, but can't keep anything down…" Cross nodded, not really giving a damn but hoping that would keep the weakening boy at home, where he was less likely to do something stupid.

"How old is the kid?" Cross had asked him. The boy was really small; he didn't know why he asked. It wasn't like it mattered but curiosity got the better of him.

"Is about twelve." That didn't seem possible. Cross wasn't really an expert, but he looked under ten. He watched the man heft the child's limp form; he did look sick. It had been another long night.

_I have to got out of here… this stupid town is getting to me. _He thought as he retired for the remainder of the night. It felt so good to get his shoes off; he wondered if he should put in an order with the uniform personnel for a new pair or just treat himself and buy his own. A cockroach scurried past his bare foot; _I'm getting really sick of this place._

Despite the lumpy mattress and thin blankets, Cross slept a good refreshing sleep in the cheap inn. He needed more money; he hated staying in such squalid settings. The next day was the same boring routine as the day before, and the day before that. Sleep, eat, find some idle way to pass time till nightfall and then head out to the cemetery.

_This is it_, he thought. _Last time out here… if the damn Earl hasn't appeared by now then he's not going to._ He stubbed out his smoke on a headstone._ Few more hours and I'm out of here. There are plenty of other things to do. _He wasn't going to bother exposing the boy to any of the Innocence he carried. That was the usual procedure for a General at the discovery of a compatible person; test their synchronization and recruit them on the spot, usually by force or any other means necessary.

Cross didn't want the trouble of hauling a runny nosed, moody brat all the way back to headquarters. It just wasn't worth it; he'd sent word to the Order via Timcanpi and let someone else come out and handle it. He paused; he hadn't actually seen the little winged annoyance for days. He probably was eaten by a cat again. He had put so much time and effort into making him; it irked him that the stupid fleabags found him so irresistible.

As if reading his mind, a light wet thump landed on his hat. Reaching up he found the golem's tail and yanked Tim down. Cross suppressed a laugh. "You _did_ get eaten again… you're lucky it hacked you up." He made himself as comfortable as possible on the ground by a thick headstone and started to pick bits of hairball off him.

Cross would never admit it, even under torture, but he was very fond of the little gold creature. After a few drinks and if he could catch him, Cross liked to pinch his tiny little hands between his thumbs and forefingers and make poor Tim do a little dance. He got bitten every time, but it was still too funny to stop. If anyone saw him playing with and doting on the little creature he would have to kill them. He had a reputation to maintain.

He wasted a full hour cleaning the damp fur off Timcanpi, and another half hour tossing the golem from hand to hand. He swore loudly when it finally wiggled free and chomped down on the meaty part of his hand. Tim settled on his knee; it was amazing how something with no face could look so indignant.

Brushing the little thing off, he stood. _It's too cold, nothing's happening and I'm not going to waste my time anymore_. He turned and walked from the stupid cemetery, happy with his decision. In the morning, or late afternoon if he decided to sleep in, he would pack and get out as soon as he could.

Cross was three blocks away when he heard the scream. A strong and clear call of a name. _No…_ he froze in the middle of the street. _Shit, he didn't…_ He closed his eyes in frustrated resignation. "Bastard…" he hissed fiercely. "Son of a bitch! He waited till I was gone."

He turned and started walking back. There was no need to run; he was too far away to save the boy, but he could at least kill the Akuma. By the second block Cross felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the snow; he broke into a dead run. Tim zipping along by his side. He had to get there, fast; something was strange.

Cross stood transfixed at the gate; as if something was physically restraining him there. All he could do was watch the horrifying drama unfolding before him. "Well, I'll be damned… this just got interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

hello all. my deepest thanks to all my reviewers. i'm so sorry i haven't been able to respond properly to everyone; work has taken a lot of my time and i'd like to keep this story on schedual, so i've put writing it as the first prioity for now. know that i do read and treasure each review. here's the next chapter i hope you all enjoy it.

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Cross had seen many Akuma born. This one was odd; it spoke. The mechanical parody of a skeleton screamed with rage and fear, but it also talked. It lashed out at the child, but not a lethal strike. "It's holding back…" he whispered; he never saw one, especially one just freed from its framework, _ever_ try to hold back.

There was a dramatic splash of blood as the boy's face was split open. The Akuma cursed the child with the voice of a dead man. Little arms reached for it, not caring that it was going to kill him. Something about the display made Cross uneasy; there was such a strange devotional love there. The brat had arched into the strike, giving the monster a clean target; he pulled his collar down, exposing a vulnerable throat. He really did want to die. He was begging for it, screaming for it.

He kept screaming as his arm burst open, painfully restructuring itself in to a weapon. Cross felt a little thrill of excitement and the corners of his mouth twist up into a faint smile. He grabbed Timcanpi and tugged at its little wings just to give his hands something to do. "This just got _really_ interesting…" it was no wonder why the Innocence he carried kept resonating so distinctly. The kid carried his own.

The Akuma did something completely unexpected. It let the boy attack; it was asking to be destroyed. It was so rare to see an Akuma retain its mind; sometimes a few stray memories remained, but never a whole intact personality.

Akuma were mindless, animalistic creatures that could only obey the Earl's commands. This one showed the usual confusion that came with being brought back; but it passed and the monster knew he had once been human as its mind cleared. It, no he remembered and he knew what he was; he was terrifyingly self aware. Imagine knowing you're dead and that you were forced back as an unspeakable monster, a machine whose only purpose is destruction. It was too cruel to contemplate.

The boy was fighting it too. He cried to stop, to leave his father alone. Hard as it was to believe, the kid was trying to protect the monster. Cross wanted to look away, but then he would have missed seeing the child deliver the killing blow. From where he stood he could hear the mangled Akuma speak. From the mess of twisted and corrupted metal issued forth a clear "I love you."

The boy's weapon enveloped the miserable creature and with a shrieking groan of metal, crushed it to dust; setting the trapped soul free. He fell back screaming bloody murder and convulsing, as his arm shattered again and painfully reformed into its original shape. His human arm was clawing violently at his face.

Cross waited by the gate in awe. That had been amazing, a parasite type too. It was very rare and he had found it. There was no way to ignore this. His mind was reeling with the possibilities. If properly trained, he could become a powerful warrior. Though he didn't relish the idea, Cross couldn't leave that to the idiots at the Order. If it was going to be done right, he would have to do it himself.

The boy was crawling weakly back to the headstone. He curled up by it and trembled, hand still rubbing his face. Cross would give him a minute to calm down then go pick him up. The shaking body hauled itself upright and leaned heavily on the stone. As Cross approached he examined the damage to the boy's face through a layer of drying and congealed blood.

The boy was scarred for life. A jagged line and a cursed star were carved violently across his small pale face. His eyes were startling. Cross was sure they had been brown, but the pitiful orbs numbly looking up at him were altered. His left had regenerated in its broken socket, its colors inversed; it was only black and white. There was scarcely any color to the other, only the palest blue, like the eyes of the blind. Cross was fairly certain the cursed eye, given time, would shift its colors back to match its mate. The ordeal had bleached the color from his face.

Cross crouched before him, grabbing the child's attention. Tim perched on his hat, clearly interested in the new human. His tail swished excitedly, thumping an annoying rhythm on his back. He was going to smack the golem if it knocked off his hat. The child stared at him weakly.

"A soul trapped inside an Akuma is doomed forever." He spoke calmly and evenly. The dead look on the child's face made him wonder if his little mind had slipped from the shock to his body. "It is bound to be the Millennium Earl's toy for eternity."

Mismatched eyes slowly blinked up at him. He was listening; that was a good sign. Cross would give him a vague explanation; better that the child didn't know too much. He might have to do things very slowly. A patient man wouldn't mind; but, Cross was not a patient man. _You better understand me brat…_

"There is no other way to save such a soul except to exorcise it." That covered what he just did; now, he needed to explain how. "You are a human born with an anti-Akuma weapon within you…" he chuckled to himself. "Such a mercurial destiny…" The kid was way too young for this; Cross was giving him his death sentence. He sighed. "Yet another soldier of life doomed by fate."

He stood and folded his arms over his chest. "Do you wish to become an exorcist?" Cross nearly laughed. The boy had no real choice. Still, he nodded and mouthed a 'yes' through his bloodless lips. He stood and brushed the dirt and snow from his clothes; he was in shock, his movements pained and stilted.

As they walked he reached again and again for Cross' hand. Cross pulled away each time; he wasn't going to put up with that shit. The boy could walk on his own; there would be no coddling from him. He finally paused and stared at him with exasperation when the little body collapsed. "If you must…" he grumbled and offered his hand. "Don't get used to this kind of thing…" _This will take forever if I don't help him_, he rationalized. Cross wasn't much for holding hands; it was a strange sensation for him. He was fairly sure he didn't like it.

Cross half dragged the little form towards his home. He would stop in, explain the situation to his family, take whatever… kid things he would need and get out of town fast. He didn't have much of a plan beyond that; but improvisation was a skill he excelled at.

As they approached the house, Ernest was just leaving to make his nightly trip to retrieve the boy. Cross tightened his grip on the little arm and half shoved him towards the other man. Ernest froze at the sight.

"Mine God…" he whispered. "What happened?" When Cross didn't answer the big man strode purposefully towards him, massive hands balled into fists. "Priest! You answer me… what happened? What did you do to him?!"

"Here." Cross passed the child's hand to him. "I did nothing." Ernest dropped to his knees before the little body; he held him by his shoulders and examined the damage. Cross stepped around him and continued walking to the house. "Clean him up… we have to talk."

The widow Walker shrieked with dismay when she saw her son. "Oh God…" she gently traced his scar; he pulled back as if shocked. His skin was painfully sensitive. Fresh blood oozed from the marks at even the lightest touch. She quickly pulled him to her. "Oh… my baby. Your face… your eye." The boy didn't hug back, just stood there and stared ahead vacantly. She stroked his bloody brown hair and made little soothing noises. The other women joined her and bundled the boy upstairs.

Cross was unceremoniously escorted by the remaining men into the next room. He was acutely aware of how they positioned themselves on either side of him; it was a subtle threat. He had no doubt that if the women finished their examination and he was deemed responsible for the child's condition, they would hurt or possibly kill him. They looked dead serious. He figured he could probably take the smaller man, but dear Ernie would snap him like a twig.

He sat at the crowded kitchen table and tried to think of how to explain the situation. He glanced to his left at Ernie; the man frowned back. "Don't lie." He warned, "You lie and we'll know it."

"Ernie… you wound me." He said amicably. "We were becoming such good friends… you trusted me to watch him when he snuck out every night to pay his respects in the cemetery..." some part of him was actually a little hurt by the man's tone. Cross had figured him to be a trusting and pleasant giant, a nice distraction in this boring town.

The awkward silence that fell was broken by the return of the women. They had bandaged the boy's face, carefully setting a gauze patch over his eye as if that would make it better. Already a faint red star shaped stain had bled through part of it. The tattooed woman held the boy on her lap.

They all focused expectantly on Cross, but it was the child who spoke first. "I messed up…" he whispered in a ragged voice. "I brought him back… I messed up bad."

"You can't bring people back, Allen… you know that." The blond athletic woman soothed.

"That's why I messed up… you can't bring them back, cause it's not them when you do. I hurt him; I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see him again. He hurt so bad. He cursed me… he hates me." For the first time since the man's death the boy showed real emotion; he cried, weak and desperate sobs. "He hates me! I made Mana hate me!" his raw voice dropped to a whisper. "I killed him… he didn't run, I begged him to run but he didn't." he choked and shook with the force of it. "He told me he loves me… and then I killed him."

The widow Walker pressed his head against her chest and held him. The blond rubbed his back reassuringly. "It's alright baby… its ok. Mana could never hate you… never. You were the most important person in his life. He never shut up about you. He loved you more than anything else." She gave a sad chuckle. The women both glanced to Cross, looking for any conformation of the boy's story. "You're just upset, we all are. You didn't kill him…"

"Actually…" Cross leaned on the table, enjoying the shocked looks on their faces.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking wary of how he might answer.

Cross sighed. "This will sound unbelievable; the boy is telling the truth. His grief and desperation called back his father's soul. It was corrupted, an Akuma, a monster; its not who it was in life." There was no point in describing the bizarre circumstances, or the Earl; it would just confuse them more. "They have no minds; they attack and kill the one who summoned them. They take on their victim's appearance." No point in telling them how the monster wears the skin as a disguise. "The boy, Allen right? He did kill it, if he hadn't it would have killed him and then come for you, and anyone else he was close to in life."

Everyone stared at him. This was always so hard to explain to average people that the world was a lot more complicated than they ever imagined.

"They can only be killed by one thing, a specific 'weapon.' Only a few people are capable of wielding such weapons. Allen is not only capable of using these weapons, but physically _is_ a weapon. It's very rare; he carries a weapon in his body. It manifests through his arm."

"So… let me get this straight. You're telling us, that our Allen… is a living weapon, which can kill monsters…" the tattooed woman said harshly. She was so angry with him. Cross smiled lightly.

"It sounds so cruel that way. What he does is not so much kill them, but free them. They were once human souls; they're trapped and in pain. We destroy them to save them." He was doing his best to sound smooth, convincing, and trustworthy. For the first time he wondered if they would let him take the boy. "I saw what he can do; he needs to be trained…"

"No!" the blond woman shouted. "He's not going anywhere. We swore to Mana, we swore that we would take care of him; love him like our own. He belongs with us." A baby started wailing in the other room; she glared daggers at him and left to tend to it.

"I know you don't like this… I don't either. But, Allen was chosen by God; he has to follow that path. He is a soldier of life; eventually, whether you like it or not, he will walk that path. I want to give him the skills to survive and do God's work." Cross hated to bring the Lord into this, but there was truth there. Even if he didn't train the child, he would still be compelled to free the lost souls. He would do it on his own and probably die quickly.

"No." the widow said firmly. "He's staying here."

"I messed up. I did something bad…" Allen said softly. "I need to make up for it." He scratched at his bandages. "Mana was hurting so much… I did that to him; it was horrible. If there are others hurting out there, and I can help them… then I have to."

"Baby, you don't have to do anything…"

"Yeah, I do. I have to make this better. I messed up… I sinned." He shivered. "I sinned against God and now I have to make it better." There was a certainty in his voice; he really believed what he was saying. "I'll come back." He added quickly. "It's not like I'll be gone forever… I just have to do this first. I have to make it up to Mana."

Cross didn't plan on telling any of them that those who join the Black Order must cut all ties to their former life. This will be the last time he will see any of these people. As soon as he leaves the house, he leaves them forever. There will be no visits, no letters, nothing. They will hear nothing of him; they will never even know if he dies. Cross would let him believe he could come home, anything to make this easier.

"I'll personally take responsibility for the boy's care." Cross said with a smile. _God, I hate kids…_ "I won't let anything happen to him."

Allen had already made up his mind to come with him. Cross stood and stretched. "I'll let you all alone to discuss this…" he walked confidently into the sitting room. It was in the bag. The boy would leave with him.

It took four hours to pack and say goodbye to the family. Cross used an amazing amount of patience to keep out of the way; for the most part he stayed by the front door and squeezed Timcanpi. The golem made a funny squishy squeaking sound if he squeezed him. He finally squirmed loose and bit Cross' wrist hard enough to draw blood. He pulled his tail till he let go.

The boy was giving away his possessions to his family. He gave a raggedy stuffed bear to the blond woman's infant and a rather nice pocket watch to the tattooed woman; she tried to give it back. He told her to keep it for him, just for now. They were all crying and hugging and generally driving Cross mad. He had just decided to walk in and take the child by force when he appeared at the door with a little shoulder bag of clothes.

"Ready?" he asked, stepping down the front step. All things considered, the separation had gone rather well.

"Does it matter?" the boy answered. Tim had abandoned Cross to settle on Allen's shoulder, curling its tail loosely around his neck. The boy didn't really seem surprised by the little creature.

"No." Cross picked up his pace and made the child half jog to keep up. "You're Allen right?" The boy nodded. The sun was rising; and putting Cross in a very ill temper. He had gotten no sleep that night. Cross loved his sleep; and this kid had cost him a whole night of it. "Allen, huh… well, not anymore. You're now my apprentice; and, I'll call you whatever the hell I want. You'll get your name back when you've earned it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes..." He mumbled softly.

"No. You will call me Master from now on. From this point on, I own you." He glared at the boy from the corner of his eye. He looked horrified. _Good._ "Do you understand me?"

"Yes… Master." He said the word like it tasted bad. "I don't like this." There was fear in his voice; he was clearly rethinking his decision.

"I don't care what you like. I'm not your father; I don't particularly care about you. You'll do as I say." He growled as he pulled a much needed smoke from his jacket. His relaxed as the sweet smoke raced through his system. The boy's breath hitched. "What?"

"Master…" his voice was small, frightened. "I'll be good… don't burn me; please, I'll listen to you. Just don't…"

"Someone burn you?" he asked casually; he didn't care, but it seemed odd since the boy came from such a disgustingly close family. "Your papa do that?"

"No!" he said fiercely. "Mana loved me! It was before him, when I was little… before he found me."

"So he wasn't your real father… huh. Then your momma, the one with the tattoos…"

"No. Isabella was my momma, but she's married to Nick. Maddie is my father's wife; I still love her though."

Cross was suddenly interested. There was something going on in that house. "Then the others…" he was hoping for a good story. The way it sounded, made him wish he had met them under different circumstances.

"It's Ernie's house. His sister lives there; I'm not supposed to repeat any of the words she says. Nick is Isabella's husband… he was funny. He'd get so mad when I'd kiss her…" he smiled at the thought. "I did it a lot just to bug him… Mana never got mad if I kissed Maddie. He thought it was funny." his face fell as he remembered the man.

"Sounds like a great family." Cross meant it. It sounded like a house of loose morals. He would have had a very good stay there; wife switching and such. He took a long last drag and flicked the butt into the snow. "Walk faster or I'll leave you…"

"You wouldn't really leave me, right?" he jogged to keep up. "I can trust you… right?"

"I'm not planning on killing you, if that's what you mean… unless you give me a good reason." _Weird kid… I need some sleep…_

He dragged Allen back to his rented room. The boy sat nervously on his bed while he gathered up his few possessions. He had been oddly silent for the rest of their walk; now he was sniffling. With a growl he finally looked at the brat. "What?!"

The kid was crying; Cross wondered if he was going to do this on a regular basis. "You're… you're not gonna hurt me, are you?"

"You're not worth the trouble." _Where is my other sock…?_ "Stop crying." He crossed the room in three steps and smacked the kid in the back of the head. "Did that hurt?"

"No… Master." He stuttered.

"There you go then. I'm not going to hurt you." He shoved him off the bed and crawled in. "I need a nap."

"What should I do?"

"I don't care as long as its quiet… play with Tim."

The boy started crying again. "You won't let anyone else hurt me, right?"

Cross squeezed his eyes shut tightly. _What the hell is he babbling about…?_ He opened one eye and glared at the boy. "What?!"

_Oh shit…_ Cross recognized the look on his face; he had been around enough, seen it on many faces before. The kid had been _hurt_. "No. You're my apprentice… that means your stupid little body belongs to me. I'm not going to let anyone damage it… so, shut up and stop whining."

Allen played with Timcanpi quietly after that and gave him a chance to sleep. Cross had the feeling it would be the last peaceful sleep he'd enjoy for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to all my reviewers! i'm so glad you all like my story. cross is so much different than mana; its fun writing a different perspective. i'm trying to keep this as close to the universe of the manga as possible; so if anyone has any info or theories about the good general, feel free to send me a message. some one asked me if i had thought of writing a back story for any of the other characters. i think i'll write about komui next. i'm not sure how long this story will go on yet, but i do have a lot planned out. thank you all again and i hope you enjoy this (rather short) chapter.

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"Try again." Cross ordered and lobbed another pine cone at his useless apprentice.

"I _am_ trying!" he cried with frustration.

"Well try harder!" Cross gave up and leaned in the cool shade of the tree. "This is taking forever…" he mumbled. It had been three months since he had taken the boy as his apprentice; in all that time they had not encountered a single Akuma. It was probably better that way. The boy wasn't anywhere near ready to meet one; he couldn't even invoke his Innocence yet. That was their grand purpose in the woods today; he was going to learn. God help him, he was going to learn. "We're not leaving this spot till you do it…" he smirked. "Wait, I'm sorry… _you're_ not leaving till you do it. I just might go home, have a nice dinner, play cards and go to bed. My nice comfortable bed… with its soft blankets…"

Allen stared at him in shock. Cross glanced around him; he had run out of pine cones to throw. Timcanpi didn't have time to escape; in an instant, the little golem went from peacefully napping to hurtling through the air at Allen's head. They both squeaked on impact.

"You shouldn't throw Tim like that…" Allen said softly as he pet the little creature and straightened out the kinks in its little wings. Tim liked Allen; it was constantly flitting playfully about the boy. At night the golem would crawl under the blankets and sleep contentedly on Allen's chest. A petty man would be jealous; but, Cross was not a petty man.

"I wouldn't have to throw him if you were doing what you're supposed to." He snapped. "Now try again…"

"It hurts…" the boy whined. It shouldn't hurt, not that badly; Cross suspected that he wasn't completely synchronized with his Innocence. It was a little concerning. A parasite type demanded a high level of synchronization of its host. He would be in poor shape if his body was rejecting it. Even for a parasite type he was eating far more then average. The Innocence was devouring his body, robbing him of his energy, fighting him instead of working with him. _How am I going to fix this…?_

Cross fell asleep against the tree. The weather was just starting to get warmer, but evenings were still cold. It was the chill that woke him. With a grumpy moan he opened his eyes. They had been there for hours and Cross was ready to go back to his warm room.

He glanced around for Allen. At some point the boy had fainted from the effort of trying to force an invocation. Tim was frantically bobbing over him, diving and thumping his cheek with its tiny hands. Cross remembered being woken up like that many times after an evening of overindulgence. Any minute now, it would start biting. He decided to wait and let the golem plant its sharp little teeth into the boy, rather than wake him on his own. It would be much funnier that way.

Timcanpi circled a few more times like a little gold shark before landing on Allen's cheek and chomping down hard on his nose. He yelped and sat bold upright, flinging Tim off. Cross laughed at him as he tried to staunch the bleeding.

Cross nudged him with his boot. "Up. I'm tired… you can start over in the morning." He really wanted to leave him there like he threatened, but it would probably just set him back further. _His Innocence is in his hand… I can actually see it. If it's in his body, then why isn't it synched up with him? It makes no sense… _Cross just couldn't figure it out; he hated that.

"Boy… your arm, did it ever hurt or anything?" Allen looked up at him, his fingers pinching his nose, and nodded. "Tell me." Maybe he could gain some clues as to why it was so difficult. The boy just continued walking.

"No."

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

"No. I don't wanna talk about it… not to you. No."

"What did you just say, boy?!"

"Sorry. No… _Master._"

Cross stopped walking, his face hard as stone. He did not take any attitude from anyone, especially a snot nosed brat. With a swift move, he backhanded the child and sent him sprawling to the ground. "Idiot."

It wasn't the first time he struck him. To the boy's credit, he didn't cower anymore. If anything he became more determined, ready to prove he could succeed at any challenge Cross could put before him. Cross wanted him to hate him, to fear him; it would make him strong, force him to stand on his own two feet.

There was no room for compassion for an Exorcist. Cross truly believed those words, even though he gave the boy a cool cloth to wipe the dirt and blood from his face and an extra pillow and blanket for his cot that night.

As he prepared for bed, Allen stood by Cross' bed; his eyes on the floor, waiting to be acknowledged. "What?" he grumbled.

The boy pushed a small red notebook into his hands. "You wanted to know… Maddie said Mana wrote about me." He whispered. The boy always kept his voice soft around him; he learned his lesson about shouting at Cross. He had once beaten him senseless when he shouted during a rather severe hangover. "I want it back. Its mine… and I want it back. You can't keep it." He turned and crawled into his cot. Tim snuggled against him. Cross watched the boy lazily scratch its little wings.

He turned his attention to the little red book. There was a ribbon tied around it; something told him the boy hadn't read it. He pulled it off and flipped the pages. Every page was covered in slanted writing, black ink, blue ink, pencil; copious newspaper clipping some neatly cut others hurriedly torn. He went back to the first page and started reading.

_Has no name; I'm calling him Allen. Four or five years old…? tiny little guy, sick?. Scared I'll hurt him… hurt before? Bathed him bandaged him; Rivka gave him codeine and stitched the deep wounds…_

_Left arm. Really deformed- red, textured, black nails. Works fine. Surface deep? Glass in the cut. Tried to remove it, stuck. Hurts him bad. Seizure? Whole 'cross' sensitive to touch._

The next page was a long list. There were many different inks, showing it had been added to and revised constantly.

_Important! Remember! Doesn't like/upsets: sudden movement, dark or enclosed spaces, being alone, being touched, glass, forks, bottles, cord/string, crowds, loud noises, cigarettes, tools? hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, scissors…_

The list kept going; the next page had a short list of 'likes.' Cross flipped pages at random, pausing occasionally to read an entry and the accompanying bit of yellowed newspaper. Looking through it made him feel dirty. There was something so _personal_ about it. The boy's father must have written it. It was filled with little notes and reminders about daily events.

Sometimes there would be a positive note like learning to speak, read, write etc; things a parent would write about. Mostly the pages described seizures, just bare facts like where, when and the duration. Taken all together the information was startling; Cross was able to determine what had been happening to the boy.

One page caught his eye; Cross sat on the bed and reread it again and again. It wasn't that the seizure described was so violent; that it lasted over three hours and corresponded to a large apartment fire. It wasn't the concerns about Allen's health that the man had jotted down. It was the stars. All across the paper he had sketched little stars in black ink. The man described going to the site of the fire and finding piles of ash and clothing scraps scattered all over the street; and stars on the ground. He called it graffiti; there was no way he would have known the truth.

It was clearly the work of Akuma; the toxin in their weapons leached into the ground and poisoned it in a patchwork of stars. Cross had seen so many die in a wash of black stars. He was vaguely impressed that the man had determined it was important enough to record.

Cross sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If each event in the newspaper clippings was indeed caused by an Akuma attack… then, Allen's Innocence had been reacting ever since he was a toddler. He seized because his body was unconsciously fighting; he had unknowingly refused to let the Innocence react and invoke.

It all made sense; he couldn't invoke it willingly because his body was trained to repress it. Perhaps the energy normally released during invocation had nowhere else to go and was painfully forced out from the rest of his body. Cross grimaced; the boy was being tortured, electrocuted from the inside each time he fought it.

A plan was slowly taking shape in his mind. If his arm reacted to the presence of an Akuma, and if he couldn't fight back to urge to let it do so, then it would invoke. All Cross needed to do was to expose him to the right situation. If the boy was too tired to resist the Innocence and he was near an Akuma, then he should have no trouble invoking it.

A caring man would never dream of putting a child in danger to test a theory, but Cross was not a caring man. He smiled grimly to himself, if nothing else it would be entertaining.

He flipped to the last page of the little red book. It was addressed to Allen.

_My dearest son,_

_I hope you don't hate me for not telling you. It was selfish I know, but I wanted to see you happy. That's how I want to remember you; laughing and smiling. I always loved your smile. I couldn't bear seeing you cry over me; holding your smile in my mind, knowing that I made a difference gives me comfort. I think it's the only reason I can leave this peacefully. _

_I'm so very, very proud of you. _

_I imagine that if you've found this, you've read all my notes by now. Please don't think poorly of me for doing it. You have to understand how unprepared I was for having a kid. I was terrified of messing up. It started as just little reminders of things about you. I had no idea what I was doing, but I wanted to do it right. When you hurt I wrote it down, I hoped I could look back at it all and figure out what caused it and how to help. I wanted to make your life better. I would have done anything to take the pain away. I love you so much. That's also why I'm leaving you this record. I don't have the answers, but I hope this can help you find them for yourself someday. _

_I'm so sorry for leaving you like this. As long as you hold me in your heart, I'll never truly be gone. I wanted so badly to see you grow, to see the kind of man you'd become. Just seeing you now fills me with such joy; you've changed so much since I found you. I have no regrets. I hope I've given you a good start. _

_Never give up._

_No matter how hard things get, keep moving, keep walking forward. I never forgot the time you said you wanted to be a doctor, so you could help others. I've seen you defend a little girl from her brother; care for me when I was sick and do everything you could to help Isabella heal, twice now. Never loose your compassion; it makes you strong. Don't give up. You may not become a doctor, but I know you'll help others._

_I believe in you, I really do. Believe in yourself. _

_I love you, my most precious child; Allen, my son. _

_Mana Walker. _

Cross closed the book and settled back into the bed. The boy was snoring; he hadn't read it yet, hadn't seen the letter. He wondered if he should tell him about it; he felt a bit of unfamiliar guilt settle in his stomach. Maybe he would let him have it back as a reward… if he ever does something to deserve it.

The next week they would see their first Akuma.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all my reviewers. i really appreciate your thoughts and compliments; its why i have an update so soon. i was on a roll, i guess. but i have to give a warning on this chapter:

WARNING: Cross is very disturbing in this chapter; its not intenional. he's not that evil or sadistic, but he has no idea how what he does could be interpreted as. its a very bad thing, not enough to raise the rating, but enough to warrent a warning. so, be warned this chapter contains some disturbing elements. better safe that sorry.

that being said, i hope you all enjoy.

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_What the hell is wrong with him?!_ Cross stared at the child convulsing slightly in the middle of the road. He was clutching his arm to his chest and sobbing as if he would die. People were staring at them. He had never seen one of the seizures the red notebook described; this must be one of them. If he was reacting like this, Cross reasoned that an Akuma must be near.

The boy had been complaining about feeling ill all that morning. He had begged Cross to let him stay at the inn. Naturally he ignored him and dragged him along. He was glad he did; there had been no attacks as far as he could tell and Allen was drawing attention to their position. No Akuma could resist an opportunity to kill an Exorcist. Cross wore his coat proudly, inviting any of the Earl's playthings to come take a chance with him.

They had been walking through another nondescript street when Allen had frozen. "Master!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Please get me inside!" Cross just looked at him in surprise; he so rarely made requests. Cross had made it clear that none of his childish begging would be indulged.

He dropped to his knees, silent tears spilling down his face. "Please! People are gonna see me!" His glassy eyes had focused on a man leaning against a lamppost. "Oh… God…" His voice was terrified. "What is that? Master, it's _hurting_ me… _what is that thing?!_"

"What's happening boy?" he asked calmly. He didn't care who saw; it wasn't him embarrassing himself on a crowded street. He did look around though; as if trying to find what was scaring the boy so badly._ Where is it? Come on boy; draw out the monster's attention… _"What do you see?"

"What do you mean… right there! _Can't you see her?!_" he had dropped to his hands and knees; wide eyes looked at Cross with a mix of disbelief and pain. "She's right there…" he moaned. "She's crying. She's hurt… _why can't you see her?_" he cried desperately.

Cross bent and grabbed the boy's chin; he examined the pale face. Either the child was hallucinating or he really was seeing something that no one else could. Cross nearly gasped. The boy's left eye had inverted again. His pupil and iris were little more than white dots floating in a sea of pitch black. He shoved the gasping boy away, letting him hit the ground where he curled around his arm and shrieked. "Be quiet you fool."

It was then that Cross realized how deep the boy's curse ran. He could see it, the soul trapped within the Akuma. From the sound of it, it was hideous. The man at the lamppost turned and smiled at him. "_Exorcist…_" it hissed. Its face began to distort and it stepped closer.

On the ground, Allen's cries reached a fevered pitch and he arched violently. _Shit._ Cross kicked him to bring him back to reality. "Idiot!" he snapped as he grabbed him by the back of his collar. "Control yourself…" He dragged the writhing little body with one hand and started to walk out of town; they needed to get away from the civilians. He didn't need to look back; the Akuma would follow.

Allen kept howling all the way to a field just outside the town. Cross threw him down. "Control yourself!" The Akuma was fast approaching; Cross had moved as quickly as he could while dragging Allen's light weight. He tried to put some distance between them, give him some time to control the situation.

Now it was closing on their location and Allen's fit was intensifying. Cross slapped him. "Calm down boy!" His mismatched eyes were wild; he didn't recognize him. He retched in the grass, bringing up what little he had eaten and blood. Cross couldn't figure where it came from; he didn't have any obvious injuries. "Shit." He caught a set of thin wrists and pinned them to the ground; using his own body weight, he held the boy still. "Allen!" he never used his name before and it caught the panting figure's attention. "I need you to calm down. You have to control this."

He heard the sound of tearing flesh in the distance and knew the Akuma had shed its human disguise. There was no more time for this nonsense. Allen was a living Akuma alarm; but other than that he was proving to be completely useless.

"Mana?" the boy croaked. His movements had become sluggish, weak. "Mana… please…" Cross released him in surprise; he touched his forehead. He was feverish, glassy eyed and delirious. Furious at the inconvenience of it all, Cross slammed his boot into the boy's side and sent him skidding across the dirt. He curled into himself and retched again. Cross ignored him and his pitiful cries for his father.

"_Exorcist…_" the Akuma appeared and hovered like a sick bloated balloon. Cross easily dodged, happy to have something new to take his frustration out on. He let his eyes slide shut as he reached down into himself to find and trigger his Innocence. He always savored that moment; that blessed second, the rush he wanted to stretch out into an eternity. Cross nearly moaned from the sensation; his whole being was teetering on the edge of something incredible, just waiting for the last little nudge that would send him joyously spiraling over.

He wondered if the other Exorcists felt like this; the sheer pleasure of the Innocence as it sent little jolts of electricity through his eager body, the sweet torture right before it activated. As always, it was over to soon and he slid back into reality. It hardly took a second, but it always felt longer.

The heavy weight of his weapon in his hand and the lingering thrum of energy running through him brought a broad grin to his face; he was in his element now. He was going to take his time, really enjoy taking out the monster. He could easily kill it with one blow, but he had neglected his Innocence far too much over the past few months, he needed to indulge. One shot took out one of the Akuma's guns. The second put a gaping hole in its side; it still feebly tried to fight. Cross rolled and ducked its attack; he came up no more than an arm's length away from the monster, pressing the barrel of his beloved Judgment into its pasty flesh. The third shot, he put directly into its ugly little mask of a face.

"God…" he laughed and ran his hand over his neck and face; just needing the contact of skin on skin while he watched the monster evaporate into a dirty cloud of dust. "_That_ was… amazing. Shit." He kissed Judgment for a job well done and dematerialized his anti-akuma weapon; he wished he could keep the rush longer. His whole body still sang with it; he was going to need to hire a girl tonight, maybe two.

"Master?" Allen was sitting up watching him. "You killed it." He looked sick. "How… how did you do that?" He cradled his aching left arm and tried to stand but kept falling, little legs too weak to support his weight. "She was so happy…" a fat tear rolled down his face. "So… happy… how did you do that?"

Cross sighed; the boy was really a good mood killer. "I destroyed the Akuma. I have a weapon… you _are_ a weapon. You can do this too."

"I'm a weapon…" he echoed. "Doesn't it hurt?" he asked timidly, nervously rubbing his hand.

"Not really… a little odd at first, but it gets…" he paused and wondered how best to phrase it. "It's nice… enjoyable." _Better than sex…_ he mentally added. He sat down beside the boy and stared up at the blue sky. "We set them free; it's a good thing. Good things won't hurt… God has charged us to send them back to him and gave us this gift. It doesn't really hurt them either. They scream, but it's not real pain. I don't think they feel the way we feel things. They're not natural; they need to be released."

"Like I set Mana free… right? I can help the other ones go back to God, save them?" he fidgeted and pulled pieces of grass out of the ground. "I can really do that too…?" he scooted closer to Cross. "You'll teach me how?"

"Right… but first you have to learn to control it. You can't do much the way you are now." Cross was still buzzing; he was in an unreasonably good mood and decided now would be a good time to push his apprentice forward. He wasn't sure if he would be this patient later, or ever again; better to deal with him now. "Hey boy, give me your arm." The boy looked at him suspiciously but obeyed. Cross pulled his glove off and unbuttoned his shirt cuff.

"Don't…" he whimpered; Cross ignored him and continued to roll up his sleeve, taking time to explore the red flesh. His skin was warm, soft. Its texture was odd, but not unpleasant. "Master… please, don't." he feebly tried to pull back, but his seizure had left him too weak to do more that softly protest and push at his hand.

"Relax kid…" Cross smiled an expression that was anything but comforting. The little body was exhausted; he wouldn't be able to fight back and Cross was planning on taking advantage of that. He ran his thumb over the deep wound on the boy's hand, tracing it and enjoying the terrified sound he made. "You'll like it. Calm down. You've repressed your Innocence, fought back the urge to activate it this whole time. I know you're hurting by now. This is your body's only defense, your only weapon against the Akuma and their maker… now, don't try to fight it; you'll feel much better…I'm just going to help you." he said soothingly. It was so out of character for him that it sent the boy into a panic.

"Ahh… noo…this is bad; you're not helping me! Ah! You said you wouldn't hurt me…you said!" Allen sniffed. "Please. Please don't do this…" Cross chuckled and continued to rub the wound. The boy made a garbled sound as the sensation overwhelmed him and his head fell back. "Please!" he gasped. "Its weird… stop. Master please stop. I feel weird. I…"

Cross raised an eyebrow at the boy's flushed face and let his thumb linger and press gently at the center of the deep scar. Allen was so embarrassed by how easy it was for the adult to manipulate him; Cross could tell. "Relax. You have to learn how to control your Innocence."

Allen moaned softly and shivered. "I hate you… stop doing this to me." He glared at the man; eyes glazed with what might have been pain, but could just as easily have been pleasure. Cross suspected it was the latter. "Ah God!" he cried, his other hand clawed at the ground for purchase. It was unwanted, but he felt it all the same. "_I hate you_!"

"You should hate me. Idiot, I can't have you following me around if you're going to react like that every time you meet an Akuma. You have to learn." Cross was actually having a wonderful time; the kid was amusing like this. He was far too sensitive, flushed and trying not to cry out. "Relax; I'm just forcing your Innocence to activate. Remember how this feels; it will help you invoke it later at will."

With that as his only warning, Cross pressed his thumb as deeply into the wound as possible; Allen arched and bit back a scream. The child was almost there; all he had to do was push him a little further. He could feel the sharp edge of the Innocence embedded in the child's flesh; with an almost savage motion he ground it into the surrounding tissue, forcing it deeper and sending the boy over the edge.

Allen shattered.

Cross was pushed back by the force of the transformation. It was violent, but much smoother than his first time in the cemetery; it would become easier with practice. "_Hurts!_" Allen howled and clutched at the junction of his shoulder. "I _hate_ you!"

There was a flash of gray in the corner of Cross' eye before he was knocked half senseless and across the clearing. The sudden attack had caught him off guard. He hauled himself off the ground, automatically activating his own Innocence in defense. Allen had struck him; the little bastard actually struck him! Cross resolved to make him sorry that he was ever born.

"_It hurts; I hate you!_" he hollered, stepping to keep himself even with Cross; he was practically stalking the man. "I told you to _stop…_ _and you did it anyways!_ It hurt so much!" He slashed at his face; Cross ducked gracefully under the savage strike. Allen kept screaming at him about things he had done; then about things he hadn't done, disturbing things. He had lost his mind. He would shoot the boy if he had to.

Some dam in the child had burst and from it poured a tidal wave of pent up rage. Cross was just a convenient target for his anger at this point; anger at Cross for touching him, anger at himself for responding, anger at his situation, anger at his father for leaving, anger at his fate and anger at whatever else that had festered in his soul.

It was easy for him to avoid the rest of the upset boy's wild attacks. His weapon was incredibly powerful, almost frighteningly so, but he was untrained, acting only on pain and anger. Cross saw his eyes and realized the boy was not really in control of his actions; he was scared of what he was doing. He didn't know where that reserve of energy came from but it couldn't last much longer; he just needed to wait for him to tire himself out. The razor sharp fingers finally faltered and dropped; the boy hit the ground with it.

Cross approached cautiously, Innocence still thrumming dangerously through his veins and keeping him ready to counter any attack. The boy was babbling incoherently, too far gone to move.

"Help me." he wheezed and grabbed at Cross' boot with his trembling human hand. "Master, please… help me. What do I do?" he flexed his altered fingers slightly. "It hurts. How do I make it go back?"

"Try. Think about how it felt before this." Cross went off of alarm mode, his weapon disappearing, and settled on the ground by the boys' head. "Relax and remember what your arm felt like. Concentrate and pull it back." Cross surprised them both when he touched the boy's hair and soothingly carded his fingers through the soft brown strands. "Don't panic, Allen. You're doing so well." He gently encouraged him and hated how soft it sounded. "You can do this. Breath deep and pull it back…"

The boy responded eagerly to the few words of kindness, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. Cross was stunned at how the child could go so quickly from hating him enough to attack to trusting him so implicitly. It took several tries and left the boy panting, but he finally managed to reform his arm.

There was a soft thud against his hip as Allen buried his head there and wrapped his arms around his waist. Cross was a little surprised by the action; he didn't really want the boy with his teary eyes and runny nose touching him. But he frowned and let him stay. Carefully he moved his arm; his fingers twitched as if in protest as he let his hand settle on the boy's back. He rubbed the tense muscles. Cross was disgusted with himself.

"Thank you, Master. Please… please don't ever do that to me again."

A sudden wave of true and utter disgust washed over him as what he had just done fully sunk in. He had _forced_ the invocation; it was just Innocence but still, he had forced the boy to do something he didn't want to do, made him experience something he didn't want or wasn't ready for. His stomach turned; there was a kind of intimacy in invocation and he _forced_ him.

Cross knew he was an utterly perverse and depraved soul, he was just fine with that, he enjoyed it; but there were levels that even he wouldn't touch, this felt like a new low. Never children, he didn't particularly care for them or have any noble reasons behind it but he would never, never touch one. Caught up in the enjoyment of his Innocence, he forgot just how close the sensations were to something else; and he had forced it on Allen.

Still, even after that violation, Allen clung to him; trusting him. Cross felt dirty. He took a deep breath and forced the feeling back. A compassionate man would feel guilty; and Cross was not a compassionate man. He was a General of the Black Order; he needed to act like one. He let the boy stay for a few more minutes, just enough time for him to stop hiccupping. He brushed the little body off and stood.

"Up." he nudged him with the toe of his boot. "We're going." Allen numbly obeyed. Cross frowned at him. "Brat." He backhanded him back to the ground. When he stood, he slapped him and split his lip. "_You_." another slap. "_Do Not_." he struck him again. "_Ever_." He blackened the boy's eye. "_Ever_." He grabbed him by the front of his shirt with one hand and lifted him off the ground. "_Strike Me!_" With one more backhand he dropped him back into the dirt.

Allen stood, his face carefully composed. "I won't do it again, Master." He paused to spit the blood from his mouth. "I will learn control." He looked Cross straight in the eye; he gaze was fiercely determined. He wasn't going to let his Master win; he wasn't going to quit or breakdown. The pathetic wretch from the graveyard was gone. Allen walked silently behind Cross as they returned to the town.

"I am created by my past" Allen said softly to no one. "I will not be controlled by it…" he looked up at the blue sky. "The past can't control me, because it's already gone and I'll only move forward." Cross could feel him glaring daggers at his back. "Even this will pass… I'll learn and then I'll make it all up to you Mana." His voice was steady, calm. Cross could probably beat him within an inch of his life; but he would keep going. "I'm gonna save them… no matter what, I'll save them."

Cross smiled to himself; if he lived through his training, Allen Walker was going to make a fine Exorcist.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews; i really loved your comments. i'm glad no one was too weirded out by the last chapter. this chapter is kind of rushed, but i really wanted to give you all an update. so, i hope you all enjoy.

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Cross laughed charmingly. "Read them and weep, ladies…" he spread his cards on the table. The ladies made the appropriate disappointed sighs. "Now, what were we betting this round…" he stroked his goatee smugly. "Oh! I remember… lets lose those pretty shirts my dears."

The buxom blond on his left giggled madly. She was slightly drunk and fumbled a bit with the buttons. Cross reached over to help, but she playfully slapped his hand away. "No, no, Mr. Big Bad General…" He pouted and turned his attention to the other woman.

"Melina… Patricia is having problems. Would you be a peach and help her?" Cross let his hand drift from bare shoulder to the collar bone of the brunette and back. She raised an eyebrow as if to say 'you're the one paying for it.' Melina was by far his favorite of the night. Her pretty cream blouse was already on the floor. Now he just had to get past the corset that bound her curvy figure.

Cross took a sip of his Merlot and let the rich taste roll around his tongue. It was so rare that he got to indulge in the finer things in life and he planned on indulge to the point of hedonism. His clothes were new and clean, his hair washed and mood pleasant; he had shoved his useless apprentice out the door that morning and he had yet to reappear. Life was very good right now. His hand dipped lower; there was lace on the edge of sweet Melina's corset and he wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked. It was _very_ good right now.

"Where are you headed next General?" she asked with mock concern. "Any exciting adventures?"

"Danger everywhere my dears…" he boasted with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm heading to India next… to brave the wild jungles. Jungles filled with vicious animals, bears and man eating tigers…" Cross flashed a dashing smile and looked every bit the brave adventurer. The ladies twittered with excitement. "I'm traveling to meet an Indian mystic who will teach me the secrets of the universe…" He lied and his girls loved it. He actually was planning on working his way to India, but only the part firmly under British control and there was no mystic, just an old magician he apprenticed with who owed him money. Melina fanned herself as if to hold back a swoon.

He leaned in and captured her red lips. Patricia fussed and claimed a spot on his lap, straddling his leg. He guessed the card game was over and he had definitely won. He wound an arm around the brunette's tiny waist and pulled her close; that sweet mouth belonged to him now. The giggling blond had already pulled his shirt from his pants and snaked a hand under the fine fabric as she attacked his neck with a talented tongue.

There was a soft rap on the door. Cross glanced at it. If that was Allen, he was going to kill him. The knock became louder and more insistent. Melina already loosed his belt, given up on the zipper and slid her cool hand inside. _I will kill him… slowly and painfully. God help me; I'll do it…_

The door cracked open slightly. "Master?" he at least had the decency to keep outside. As far as Cross was concerned though, the boy had just signed his death warrant.

"Idiot!" he gasped around Melina's kisses. "Sleep out there… _ohhh shit_… I will kill you in the morning… I really will…"

"Master?" a pale face peaked around the door frame. He stared at the floor and came in, shutting the door behind him. "It's the yellow haired lady." The boy was pale and sickly, shaking. He clutched his twitching left hand tightly.

"What's wrong with his eye?" Melina pulled away to ask. Cross was instantly sober.

"What?" he sat up the best he could. "Her?" he pinched the back side of the blond girl and earned himself a high giggle. She felt real enough; but then Cross didn't have a lot of close up Akuma groping to compare it to. Allen nodded. "Really?!" Cross pulled away and observed her; she batted her eyes coyly. "Idiot. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Master." He was crying; at least he wasn't screaming. Either the boy was hurting less or hiding it better. With a soft groan of pain he dropped to his hands and knees and rocked slightly. He was hiding it better. Timcanpi crawled out from the back of the boy's shirt where he'd been riding along. The golem butted his chin in concern and wrapped his long tail over his shoulders for support. "Tim…" he cried. A disproportional mouth opened and chomped down hard on his ear; Cross noticed there was already blood streaked down his neck and soaked into his collar. Allen yelped, lurched back and sat on his heels. His focus returned; he was using one kind of pain to distract from another. "I'm sure! I've been following it all day."

Cross was almost impressed. The kid had wandered around all day, moving into the pain, going where it hurt. He looked at Patricia, her face was suddenly hard. "What's going on?" the other woman asked.

"One moment my lovely…" Cross shushed her. "Patricia…" he sighed and took one last opportunity to cop a feel under her blouse. "You've been a very, _very_ bad girl." Judgment had already materialized in his other hand. He jammed the barrel under the Akuma's chin and fired without hesitation.

She fell back and landed ungracefully on the floor, skirt hiked up high on her hips and blouse half opened. The Akuma hissed and spat. She was fast, incredibility fast to have avoided Judgment. "Exorcist bastard!" she hissed. Melina screamed at the sight of the gun and scrambled away; she slammed her back against the far wall next to Allen and chanted a steady terrified prayer.

Cross didn't bother talking to the boy. It had been several months since the last disastrous attempt and he still couldn't invoke his Innocence at will, not without help. From the corner of his eye he could see the boy inch his way over to the only panicked human in the room. He threw his arms around her and whispered calming words; she buried her head against his chest. It looked ridiculous, a child holding and comforting a grown woman. She clung to him like a drowning victim.

The Akuma noticed his glance and darted towards them; changing an arm to a gun. Cross wouldn't let her out run him again. He lined up a shot and poured a warm rush of energy into the bullet. It was a new technique he had been playing with and now seemed like the perfect time to try it out. Even if she dodged, the little metal slug would follow. It was an inescapable shot.

He was almost disappointed when the Akuma didn't see it coming. It dissolved into a cloud of dust right before the huddled little mass of humanity on the floor; a beautifully simple clean kill.

"You're free." Allen said with a ghost of a smile. He was staring at a space near the water stained ceiling. "I'm sure she's there… waiting for you, go." Cross' stomach twisted a little; they were _talking_ to him. Allen helped Melina up. "It's ok…" he held her hands. "You're ok… that wasn't really your friend. It was a monster pretending to be her; I'm so sorry you had to see all this…"

Cross felt an acute pang of jealousy; his woman, or at least his for the night, was crying and his useless apprentice was the one comforting her. "Go home." He said sternly. "Melina, leave… now." She looked around the room worried and took off out the door. Cross listened to her retreating footfalls before rounding on Allen. "You just couldn't have waited another twenty minutes, could you…?"

"What?"

With a sour look, Cross approached the little figure and struck him with the butt of Judgment. He shrieked and clutched his head. "Idiot! You _do not_ interrupt me when I'm having fun!" His weapon vanished and he cuffed the boy again for good measure. "You're still sleeping out in the hall tonight."

"But, I did right! I found the Akuma!"

Cross glared at him. "Oh? Then why then why aren't you standing? The pain hasn't left yet, has it? Why is your curse still activated?" The boy's hand flew to his face; he grimaced and prodded lightly at the scar etched into his skin. His eye was still inverted. "Useless brat, there's another Akuma out there." Cross absently started fixing his clothes; he didn't like to look mussed without cause. "You should have found the other one first… but, instead you show up here and ruin my card game. I paid a lot for their company and I want my money back." Cross scowled. "Tomorrow you will go out and earn me my money back… I don't care how you do it, just do it."

"But Master…"

Cross silenced him with a look. "Then we are going out to the woods and you are going to practice until you can invoke your Innocence or your stupid little body gives out; whichever comes first. Do you understand me?" the boy seemed to shrink into the floor. "Good. Now get out. I'm going to enjoy what's left of my wine and I don't want to see your face till morning." He halfheartedly kicked at the child as he scampered out the door. "Idiot…" he mumbled and went back to the table.

The bottle of wine wasn't the most entertaining company for the night, but it was pleasant enough. A half bottle later, Cross half staggered towards the bathroom to take care of some rather pressing issues. As he washed his hands he took a moment to examine his reflection in the mirror. He was pale; a lack of pigmentation that came with red hair. It didn't bother him much; the ladies loved it. 'Like sculpted marble…' they said. He didn't like how easily he burned in the sun; he was careful about how much skin he exposed when he was outside. Even if he didn't burn he would get freckles. He hated those with a passion; there was something so insulting about having them. Right now his face was ruddy with drink and he wondered if he had too much.

Carefully he removed the half mask from his face. He ran it under the faucet and gave it a good scrubbing before washing his face. Using a soft cloth he gently dabbed the skin that he kept hidden. Washing, just being clean was a joy; Cross liked to take good care of, even pamper himself. He still drank himself into oblivion that night.

Cross woke up in bed with no memory of how he got there. He groaned and rolled over, his head pounding. Opening one bleary eye, he spied a glass of water on the nightstand and a tiny bottle of aspirin. Gratefully he tossed back two of the little white pills and downed the entire glass. Sitting up in bed, he noticed his exorcist coat was gone from his body and he boots had been removed. He found the coat neatly draped over the high back of one of the room's chairs and a clean, neatly folded set of clothing. His boots were staged under it.

"What?" he scratched his head a little. There was a pile of coins and paper money on the nightstand along with a note. Cross squinted and read the childish scrawl.

_Master,_

_I hope this is enough. You didn't say how much money it was._

Cross quickly counted it and smiled. Idiot did a good job. It was more than he had spent last night, more than he had spent since arriving in town. _How did he get this?_ He wondered. Did he have some talent he was keeping hidden?

He found the boy curled up outside the door sleeping lightly. Cross stepped over him and went to get breakfast. "Master?" he sat up and followed him. "Was that enough?" he asked nervously. "I can get more…"

"Get moving… you have training to do." Cross told him sharply as he entered the inn's kitchen. The owners left food out for their guests to dine on at their convenience; Cross lifted a tray cover and helped himself to some hot breakfast. The boy waited, gazing longingly at the food and waiting for permission. "You should eat." He threw an apple at the boy, hard. It slammed into his forehead, knocking him back a step and split; Cross stood, laughed and wiped some from his hair.

It was then he noticed the white. "Oh no way…" he mumbled. Roughly he grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him to the window for better light.

"OW!" Allen fought hard at the sudden contact. "What?! Master… what are you doing?"

"Shut your mouth, Idiot…" He took a handful of the boy's brown hair and pulled hard, wrenching his head to the side.

"What?! What did I do wrong?" Allen shrieked and tried to fight back tears. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Is it the money…? I can get more. Master, please stop pulling…"

"I said shut up!" he shoved the child away; he had seen enough. It was only a quarter inch of new growth, but it was the wrong color. Cross swore. Allen's hair was growing in _white_. "Back to the room. Now." He commanded sternly. There was no way he was going to be seen with a brat with two toned hair.

Allen tore back up the stairs, scared and confused. Cross's boots thudded loudly on the wooden floor as he followed. He fetched a pair of scissors from the bathroom.

"Nooo…" Allen moaned; he put his arms over his head in an attempt to save his hair. "No… don't cut my hair! I like my hair, so don't do it!" Cross batted his hands away with ease, pulled a strand of hair taut and cut the brown away. He held it for Allen to see and smiled at the boy's upset cries. "Why?! Why are you…?! I don't get it. Was it because I'm bad? I'll be good, I promise! Just don't cut it!"

Cross battled Allen's hands for the first few snips but quickly grew tired of it. "Boy, if your hand's in the way again, I will cut it off." He settled and sniffled as Cross finished his job. The boy carefully reached up and touched the few months' growth of white. "I had to cut it; it would look really stupid if I let you go around like that. Your little graveyard adventure really did a number on you… takes one hell of a shock to turn hair white."

"My hair's white?" he asked softly. Cross steered him to the bathroom so he could see for himself. "My hair's white…" he looked up at the adult. "It's gonna stay like this, isn't it?" he sighed. "Oh my God… it's really white…"

"Heh, you look like a tiny old man." Cross chuckled. He put a firm hand on his shoulder and shoved him all the way back to the kitchen. "Eat. You have a long day ahead of you." Cross watched him stuff food down his face like there was no tomorrow. "I have something for you… depending on the outcome of today's training." Cross smiled; that had scared the boy.

Within the hour they arrived in a small clearing in the woods. These places were so conveniently located. Close enough to hurry back in case of emergency, but far enough to give them privacy. It was much easier to do these little exercises away from prying eyes.

"Now, my useless student… concentrate and activate your Innocence." Cross found a nice shady spot and sat. He made himself comfortable; he figured they were going to be there for awhile. Timcanpi buzzed around his head. Cross caught him by the tail and pulled him down to play with. "Good boy Tim… you keep right on biting Idiot." He squeezed the little golem till it squeaked.

"How?" Idiot brought his attention back to reality.

"What do you mean how?" Cross snapped. "Remember when I helped… think about how it felt when your stupid arm transformed." Allen turned bright red; it had been a few months, but he definitly remembered. _Oh right… and he's a parasite type on top of it all. _He tried to think of the name of the parasite type who told him; it wouldn't come to him, but the man had explained how it's a bit more …intense than what the equipment types felt. It was something to do with the connection between the weapons and host's body; it was acutely sharp. _And I forced him…_ he thought with a pang of guilt.

Cross dozed in the shade while Allen attempted to wake his Innocence. He was in the middle of a pleasant dream featuring Melina, a hot soapy bath and missing towels when the boy nudged him. "Master…" he whimpered. Cross groaned and slapped at him; he ducked the sleepy strike. "Master. The other one's here… I can't do it…"

The other Akuma was approaching. The boy looked terrible and he still couldn't do it. "Shit." He swore and stood, quickly taking in his bearings. "Idiot, you better learn faster." Cross grabbed him by the elbow and forced him forward. "You're going to fight."

"I can't!" he howled with wide eyes and dug his heels into the ground. "I can't do it yet!"

"Yes you can… you're tired, the Innocence wants to react and you _are not_ going to fight it." He commanded firmly and tossed Allen away from him. The Akuma drifted into view. It was a low level; it shouldn't be too difficult. "Experience is a good teacher…"

"NO!" he scrambled backwards. "I can't do it… it hurts!"

"Then don't fight it!" Cross snapped back. "Let go and it will stop hurting. Let go and breathe. Remember how it felt and reach for it. Let your stupid body do what it needs to." The boy frowned hard and tried to calm down. The bulbous monster moved towards Cross, attracted by his Exorcist uniform. They were lucky; Akuma were stupid at this level. Cross summoned his weapon as a precaution; he was in no danger. He could handle it in his sleep. The boy was going to do it; if Cross had to fire he was going to punish the child. He had to learn.

The Akuma ignored Allen completely, heading to the more obvious target. It moved between them and prepared to fire. Cross looked past it to the child. "Allen…" he changed tactics, speaking softly and using the boy's name. "_You _have to do it. I know you can see it. It needs to be set free. Allen, you better hurry. It _will_ kill me; you'll be all alone then. You can't go home; your path has already been chosen. This is what you were born to do; you know that." Cross paused; he was saving this last bit for a special occasion. "If it kills me… won't _he_ be disappointed in you? What would Mana say if you couldn't even save one human…"

Allen stared at the scene before him in horror, hyperventilating. Without a sound he raised his left hand and tentatively ran his other shaking hand over his scar, letting his fingers rest upon it. Cross raised an eyebrow; if he couldn't will it to activate, he was going to force it just like his Master had showed him. He shut his eyes tight and with a deep steadying breath pushed deep. He cried out desperately and dropped to his knees; it hadn't been enough. He gulped down great gasps of air and pushed again fiercely.

The Akuma was turning away from Cross, sensing that something interesting was happening. Allen looked at him, silently begging for help; it wasn't working.

"Allen…" Cross started. God help him; he was going to do it. "What did you do?" he asked sternly. He fired a shot, grazing the Akuma. He would keep it distracted until the boy could do it.

"What?"

"In the graveyard, what did you do?" Cross carefully took out the Akuma's weapons; it couldn't fight back now. He made it into little more than a target; a toy for a child to play with. The irony of making one of the Earl's playthings into one of his own was not lost on him.

The boy choked. "No! Don't make me say it!"

"_What did you do!?_"

"I sinned against God!"

"What was your sin, Allen Walker?!"

"I brought Mana back! I turned my father into an Akuma!" he screamed.

"And what do you have to do?"

"I have to atone!"

"How?"

"By freeing every Akuma I meet!" Cross smiled; that did it. The boy tried once more to manually force his Innocence and with one last soft cry Allen did it.

He tentatively struck the Akuma, wounding it and knocking it to the side. Cross kept it from escaping. _It's like a cat playing with a trapped mouse._ He thought with a sick kind of enjoyment. _Just wound… let it run… chase it and wound again, don't kill it… just play…_ He laughed and watched Allen carefully try different movements, seeing what worked and learning how to attack. He was a picture of curiosity, trying to figure out what to do.

"Alright boy…" Cross finally stopped him. "Good job. Now kill it." Instead of the direct strike he expected, the child hesitated. He stared at the injured Akuma like he was seeing it for the first time.

"I hurt her…" he whispered with horror. "I hurt her…" He was breathing too hard. Cross had enough time to swear loudly as the little body suddenly reached its limit and dropped, his arm reforming to its original state.

Cross sighed with frustration and with a single shot put the monster out of its misery. As Judgment left his hand he walked to where the little body landed. "Not enough!" he hissed and kicked him hard, hoping the cracking sound he heard was a rib and that it didn't puncture anything important. He grumbled and hoisted the limp body over his shoulder and wondered why he didn't just leave him there. A compassionate man would be worried about the boy, but Cross was not a compassionate man.

Back at the inn, Cross had a cot and blanket brought up to the room and tossed the little body into it. "Here… since you did finally manage to activate it; you get a bed tonight. You owe me the cost of it though. I'll keep track of all the expenses you rack up. I'm going to start a tab…"


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you all for the reviews; they really help keep me going. i'm having a bit of trouble with this story. i think its because cross is such a main character and is actually in the manga a lot. i guess i'm worried i'll mess him up or that what i write will go against what's in the actual series. i had a lot more flex space to work with in my last story. i think i miss a bit of that freedom. this chapter is fairly short and not really one of my best ones i think, but i need to move on past it and i wanted to update as soon as possible.

i'm making some assumptions and guesses about cross and his history. i hope you all like it. i'm also going to do my best to start answering all reviews again. if you take the time to review i will make the effort to answer you back. again, thank you all and i hope you enjoy this update.

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"Hey, Useless…" Cross nudged the child across from him with the toe of his boot. Cross was bored of watching the uninteresting boy as he stared out the train window at the snowy landscape. "How old are you going to be this year?"

"Thirteen, Master. Why?"

"You look old." Cross eyed the white hair; it had grown considerably since he had butchered the last of the brown off. With his bleached hair, pale skin and blind-blue eyes, he looked like a little ghost. He followed like one too; a pale little shadow hovering just behind Cross' black coat.

He had been doing much better over the past few months. Allen still couldn't invoke his Innocence by will alone but he was doing better. Each time was easier for him to force it. There didn't even have to be an Akuma nearby for him to do it now; he just had to touch his scar properly.

They had only come across two Akuma on their way to the train station earlier that week. As usual the boy sensed them first. It had been the boy's first encounter with a Level Two; his body had reacted so hard he threw up and dropped into a dead faint, leaving Cross to fight both alone.

He took care of the stronger one first and kept the other alive until the boy woke. Cross forced him to fight the injured Akuma. His useless apprentice couldn't bring himself to actually finish the monster and Cross had to deliver the final blow. In his frustration with the boy, he made Allen practice invoking and then deactivating his weapon again and again for the next four hours or so.

Cross found it hilarious; he always looked so flustered and embarrassed when he did it. Allen would always ask him not to look; it was a personal thing, not to be seen by others. The soft little noises he made when he forced an invocation reminded Cross of something else very personal; and Allen was going to be a teenager in a few weeks.

"What kind of girl do you like?" he asked as he thumped the toe of his boot into the boy's shin.

"What?!" Allen yelped in surprise. Cross laughed inwardly; this was going to be fun.

"You don't have a type yet, huh? Well, what kind of girl do you think you'd like?" He burst out laughing as the boy flushed. "You _do_ like girls right?"

"Well… yeah, but…" he frowned hard and tried to figure out where his master was going with this odd line of questioning.

"Good. I'm going to buy you one for your birthday…" the expression on the boy's face was absolutely priceless. Cross figured it would do the boy some good to get a little experience in that area. "Think it over; you don't have to rush an answer. It's a big decision. Besides, you need to get the money to pay for it first."

Allen abruptly stood and stormed out of their compartment, mortified beyond belief. Cross closed the sliding door after him and flipped the little latch to lock him out. He had no intension of letting him back in when he returned. Idiot could sleep in the hallway. He traded the smoke in his mouth for a new one and sucked the poison deeply into his lungs with a relaxed sigh. He pulled a flask from his boot and set it on the bench beside him; he liked having a good drink close by and the rail didn't have anything of quality.

After freaking out his apprentice he was quickly bored. Timcanpi probably went with him; so, bothering the little golem was out of the question. He dug through his travel bag and pulled out a little booklet of exotic woodblock prints he acquired in an oriental import shop. It would definitely help pass the time until they reached Prague.

Cross loved that city, good food, pleasant atmosphere and some of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. He would waste the last few weeks of the year there before continuing east. He had business to settle in India and he was not looking forward to it.

He didn't hate the man, the damn Magician, but he truly didn't like him. Cross had already been a powerful Exorcist when they met, but he couldn't resist learning some of the things he had to teach. He had apprenticed under the man for five miserable years; until he had discovered what Cross was out learning on his own.

Little Cross Marion had been playing with the dead.

The Magician refused to teach him anymore and sent him away; he had been quietly fuming over the whole incident ever since.

Collecting money was the best excuse to go back. Cross did the math; he had collected enough money to pay his way through his training only to be robbed of it. As far as he was concerned the man owed him the difference. He was going to collect and give the man a good thrashing for wasting his time. He had even decided to travel at a leisurely pace, figuring every day he spent away was just adding interest to what he was owed.

Cross was a foolish young man in those days and though he would never admit it, he knew then what he was trying to do was wrong; but he had no regrets. He would figure it out with or without help.

He sighed, closed his book and ran a hand through his red hair, absently pulling at the knots he found. He knew there was a way; there had to be a way to outsmart the Millennium Earl, to bring someone back without him. He was certain the rules could be bent, that someone could return to the land of the living without the Earl's intervention. Even if he had to travel to the ends of the earth and fight the devil himself, Cross would wipe that damn grin off the bastard's face; _he was going to see her again._

He pushed the thoughts away as soon as they entered his mind. He couldn't dwell on it; one step at a time. His songbird was worth the time; she was worth the wait. With an irritated moan Cross downed the entire contents of his hip flask. There really was no sense in dwelling on things he resolved; for the meantime he would just continue to bury himself in an endless spiral of wine, women and violence. He passed out cold on the worn bench seat of the train compartment.

Cross woke with a headache and a sense of movement. His boots were gone; a pillow was behind his head. He didn't remember grabbing one. He opened one bleary eye and much to his surprise, saw the boy. He was sitting on the floor and polishing Cross' boots. _How the hell did he get back in here?!_ He thought stunned.

When Allen saw he had awaked, he scampered back across the dirty compartment floor. "Sorry, Master… didn't mean to wake you! I'm sorry, I was just leaving…"

"How did you get in here?" Cross mumbled as he sat up. The boy's eyes darted to the door and back quickly. "I locked that door. How did you get back in here?"

Allen just stared, completely unsure of how to answer. He eventually decided he was more afraid of Cross than of being discovered and answered too softly for him to hear.

"WHAT?" Cross snapped. "I locked it! Speak up boy!"

The child made a little panicked sound. "It wasn't locked very well!"

His confession made Cross pause. "You picked the lock… didn't you?"

"You were asleep. I didn't think you'd mind." He said almost sheepishly. "And then I thought it looked uncomfortable where you were… so I got a pillow; just like all the other times you pass out… I'll go back outside ok."

"Damn straight you will." Cross straightened his little half-frame glasses. "I'm going to lock the door again… and you're going to break in again. I want to see it." The boy looked suddenly nervous.

"I don't know how." He said slowly and Cross could tell he was lying. It bothered him that the boy would be as bold as to lie directly to his face.

"You break into this room or I break your nose. Is that clear?" He really wanted to see if the boy could do it, or if he really hadn't locked the door properly. He was probably going to hit him anyways; either for lying about being a gifted lock pick or for not telling him earlier. It was a no win situation and from the miserable look on Allen's face, he knew it too.

Dutifully the child stepped out of the compartment and Cross locked him out. Before the adult even returned to his seat there was a soft thud-click, and the door slid open. "Shit…" he whispered. Pushing the boy back out, he shouted. "Do it again!" He did and Cross repeated the exercise. By the fourth time Allen looked completely bored with it.

Cross grabbed him by the hair and pushed him down to the floor. He kicked his travel pack to him. "Open that." He commanded as he sat heavily on the bench.

"But… that's your bag Master…"

Cross rolled his eyes; the child was so irritating. "I know its mine, you dolt. I want to see if you can get past that lock…"

The child gave him one last suspicious look before setting to work on the complicated lock Cross built to guard his belongings. In less than a minute he had jimmied it open and pushed it away as if it would bite him. "There. I did it. Don't be mad… I've never touched your stuff before." He frowned at the floor. "Just cause I can do stuff doesn't mean I do it…"

"What else can you do that you haven't mentioned?" Cross questioned him; he didn't expect an answer and wasn't surprised when the boy didn't have one. "It's not worth locking you out anymore I suppose." He sighed and settled himself back into the bench seat to sleep out the rest of the train ride.

Cross found a nice room to stay in when they arrived in town. The innkeeper, a paunchy and balding man, recognized him as an Exorcist and offered him the best suite. The man had been saved from an Akuma attack the year before and swore to always look out for any member of the Black Order he encountered. Cross absolutely loved that about the job.

By the end of December, he had settled into a comfortable routine; sleeping late, bullying and training his idiot apprentice, eating and drinking far more than was healthy, playing cards and spending time with every lady of the night he could get his hands on. It was Christmas Eve when he finally asked Allen if he had decided what type of girl he'd like.

"Well?" he asked the boy. "Have you thought about it?" Allen looked at him blankly. "Not at all huh?" Cross chuckled; he had a bit too much wine with dinner and was in a very good mood. "No worries… we'll just see what they have available." He started walking, knowing the boy would follow. "Your father ever take you out like this?" It was sort of a fatherly thing, taking a boy out to see the ladies; he hoped the boy wouldn't think of him like that. He didn't want to be the fatherly type; it would ruin his image.

"Mana said he'd take me to a dancehall when I was old enough…" he answered softly. Cross didn't really expect that; he had to give the dead man a little credit. He would have at least got the kid started out somewhat right.

Cross hummed a little tune as they walked, shoes crunching in the snow. Any other day Timcanpi would be darting around his head, but he had taken the little creature and crammed him into a spare sock and left the little bundle in the room. It wouldn't do any good to have him wandering off and getting eaten again. It was a long walk from their fine room at the inn to the red light district. The city was good about keeping such areas separate from the proper parts of town. Cross was oddly proud to be a familiar face there.

"Master…" came a nervous voice behind him. "I don't think I want to do this…"

"Nonsense; you'll like it."

"Every time you say I'll like something… I end up getting hurt."

Cross thought for a moment. He was right. "True…" he admitted. "But, you always do feel better in the end. I know the Innocence hurts you. It hurts to invoke it… but it hurts even worse not to." He sighed; this conversation was starting to sour his mood. "You do feel better after you've done it though. It will stop hurting; I swear it will. You just have to keep doing it; I'm going to make you keep at it."

"I hate you."

"Good." Cross was relieved as they reached their destination. One more word from the boy to ruin his mood and he would have had to smack him. A brown haired beauty opened the door for them. The parlor was filled with a gaggle of ladies lounging lazily over its many red velvet couches. It smelled of questionable incense; the lights were low and tinted with warm colors. It was a holiday and business was slow; Cross could have his choice. Life was very good.

He was vastly disappointed when the girls all fawned instantly over his useless apprentice. "He's just so adorable!" one of the ladies cooed. Cross pinched her when she leaned in to examine the boy. She giggled wildly.

"It's his birthday." Cross smiled evilly. "He's thirteen… gets to pick his present this year." For a moment, he almost thought the girls would fight over him. "Boy, take your time to pick… we have all night." He wanted to laugh when the boy just stared desperately at the door. The brat should be thankful for all he was doing for him.

"Master… please…"

Cross laughed at him, lit a cigarette and settled back to wait. "He's nervous ladies…" he invited them to try and help the boy decide. Allen just fidgeted away from every encouraging touch.

"Oh, sweetheart… we won't bite." One of the girls giggled. "He's just so adorable… with that white hair; oh he's just too sweet!"

"Pick any, boy." Cross chuckled and pulled a thin blond angel into his lap. "Its your birthday after all…"

When it was clear that he had no real choice, Allen timidly pointed to a pretty Asian girl with perfect almond eyes. Some of the girls sighed with sweet mock disappointment at being passed over: Cross loved it when they played cute like that. The Asian girl tossed her long black hair, knelt and laced her slender arms over the boy's shoulders; he didn't look at her, just kept his eyes glued to the floor. She touched her forehead to his and said something too softly for Cross to hear, but the boy went bright red, swallowed hard and nodded.

He lost track of the boy after the Asian girl half dragged him to another room. Cross happily let the girls serve him a drink and started up a saucy game of cards with clothing at the stake. He was expertly wined and dined and passed out on the ample bosom of a nice smelling girl with black hair.

A swift slap to the face woke Cross the next morning. "You're a bastard." He cracked open an eye to see a fuming Asian girl.

"Yes, I know…" he answered blearily. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Your kid…"

"He's not mine." Cross sat up too fast and had to close his eyes and let the dizziness pass. "What are you so upset about? I know he's a kid… but, I paid you enough; it couldn't have been _that_ bad…"

"You're a bastard!" she hissed. "You can keep your damn money for him…"

Cross raised an eyebrow and leaned back on the sofa. "So, he was that _good_…?" he sneered.

"We didn't do anything. He didn't want to be here!" She shifted her weight back and forth with irritation. Cross reached up and caught her wrists; he pulled her down onto the couch with him. "He's too young… I kissed him and he cried. You bastard." Cross made a thoughtful noise and played with her long hair. "You know what we did? What the little guy wanted?" Cross shook his head; he wished she would stop talking, he didn't care. "He wanted someone to hold him till he fell asleep and tell him he was a good boy…"

"Hmm… I am a bastard." Cross already knew that; he couldn't afford to be soft. His apprentice's Innocence was almost dangerously powerful; there was no room for error. He had to be trained strictly. This birthday present had been a grand experiment; in some corner of his mind he thought he was doing something almost nice for the boy. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you as always to my reviewers. i tried to answer all reviews; my apologies to anyone i may have missed. i hope you all enjoy this latest chapter.

i may need to pause this story to flesh out the loose plot line i have planned. i'm thinking of doing a few little one-shots about different characters or something just to fill the void in updates.

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It had only been a short detour. An old friend of the Order learned that the great General Cross was passing through town and insisted he come to dinner. Cross had been very surprised to be approached by an aged butler and brought back to the dark manor.

Cross asked how the old man knew where to find him. "Simple…" he answered with a smile. "You wear the coat of the Black Order… and have flaming red hair. It's kind of hard to miss…" Cross frowned in response; he liked his hair, and as much as he loved a fine meal he couldn't shake the feeling that it was still going to cost him in some unknown way. He took his frustration out on Allen, belting him across the face, before he left for dinner. As he shut the door he could faintly hear the boy yelling for an explanation; it made Cross chuckle.

The food was good and Cross stuffed himself. His host smiled, happy to have a chance to meet the legendary General, and offered a tour of his massive collection. The building was almost a castle; the old man had spent a lifetime filling it with rarities and curiosities. His portrait hung in the great hall; the man was indeed odd. Cross was sure it wasn't very traditional to be sticking out one's tongue for a painting. Everywhere were beautiful works of art and artifacts from cultures long dead. Cross wasn't really interested; he wondered if he owed the old man with the two toned hair money.

"This is the pride of my collection…" he prefaced as he led the Exorcist to his greenhouse. A blast of sickly sweet warm air met them as the door was opened. Row after row of vividly colored flowers bloomed as the old man walked past. "Aren't they amazing?" he lovingly pet a bright bud; a multitude of petals unfolded as if by magic. "They respond to emotion… good little plant! Yes, you are!" Cross rolled his eyes; the old man's mind must have slipped a little over the years. "This is just the first generation… I'm going to see if I can cross breed them for size and temperament. Breeding and environment… good breeding and a good environment to nurture them... That's all it takes to create something truly great…"

Cross scowled; the flowers didn't seem too special. He experimentally reached out a single finger and poked the nearest violet bud. It stirred and bit him hard, drawing blood; he tried to pull away, but a series of tiny vines uncoiled themselves from the base of the plant. Tiny underdeveloped thorns irritated his skin as the tendrils wrapped tightly around his wrist. The bud was still chomping away happily at his finger, reminding him a bit of Timcanpi, when the old man arrived to help.

"You were too negative… they don't like that." He turned his attention to the chewing flower. "Nooo… you don't like that at all! Do you precious, little precious flower?" It released Cross's hand at the old man's soothing tone. It smiled with impossible teeth and snapped at the old man. He was sure plants shouldn't have teeth. Something about that bud seemed particularly foul tempered.

The corner of Cross's mouth turned up in a smile. "Could I have one of those?"

Cross stood outside the door to his room for the night and worked on holding back a smile. The angry plant was biting at his coat sleeve. _This is going to be great…_

He opened the door in time to see his useless apprentice crawling in through the window. He had an apple held in his teeth, bread and cheese under one arm. He froze when he saw Cross. His pale eyes darted to the window, as if debating whether he should run and take his chances outside or face the adult.

"Idiot…" Cross shut the door behind him and plopped the potted plant down on the table. "I told you to stay here." The boy opened his mouth and tried to apologize; Cross cut him off. "No, I said you were not to leave this room… sit. No, you kneel properly… hands palm up and under your knees, head back. Eyes stay on the ceiling. Stay there till I say you can move. You need to learn to follow directions." It was a cruel position to hold; it kept the back hunched and all the weight on his pinned hands. Cross planned on keeping him there until he fell or cried, whichever came first.

Allen sent him dirty looks from under his shock of white hair. Cross pretended to read while he watched the boy from the corner of his eye. It was always an interesting struggle to watch. He hurt, but he tried so hard to hide it; he didn't want to give Cross the satisfaction. He held the pose till his muscles trembled and pained tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

"Did you learn something, boy?" Cross idly flipped the pages of the book he wasn't reading.

"Yes, Master!" came the choked reply.

"What did you learn?"

"To listen to you! To stay where you tell me to stay, even when you're not here!" he cried. "Now, please can I move?!"

"Not with that attitude…" The boy howled, but he stayed in place. "One minute… not a sound, not a single movement… starting now." He was almost impressed when the boy did it. "Alright, eat your food and come over here."

The boy was still stuffing his face when he sat in the chair across from Cross. "Here…" Cross nudged the plant over to him. "Your next exercise… keep this plant alive. Don't let it die; it's your responsibility."

Allen smiled nervously at the violet bud. He poked it and it latched on to his hand. Cross laughed hard at his surprise; he had no intension of telling him how to handle the moody flower. He was looking forward to watching the boy get bitten; it would be funny.

"It has teeth! It bit me!" He yelped and tried to pull away, half dragging the ceramic pot across the table. "Stupid plant! Stop biting me!" Cross laughed till his sides hurt. "Why would you do this?!" Allen squeaked; he noticed that he was making the adult genuinely laugh and started to exaggerate his situation.

He liked making people laugh, especially if it was his master. "Idiot… plant, you listen to me! You have to do what I tell you…" It was rare moments like these that the boy had control and he took full advantage of it; he did his best Cross impression. "That's it! Idiot plant, you sit proper… vines under your pot. You look at the ceiling…um, even through you don't have eyes, you still have to do what I say!"

Allen spent the rest of the night nursing his shredded hand; the plant did not like his jokes and tried to work its teeth through to the bone. Cross went to bed oddly happy. The detour to the stupid greenhouse with its daft owner was completely worth it. In the morning his idiot apprentice would pay dearly for making fun of him, but for now he appreciated the humor and the kid's sheer audacity to do it.

The next day turned out nothing like he planned. He did soundly thrash the boy before taking him out to train. Allen complained and whined about how much his Master hated him and wanted him to die. He sulked the entire way out to their temporary practice field.

As much as Cross generally disliked the boy and wanted him out of his hair; he didn't want him to die, not really. He had plans for him and never even considered that the boy could die while under his instruction, but suddenly he was dying. A sensitive man would be deeply upset; but Cross was not a sensitive man.

The attack had come from nowhere, completely surprising Cross despite his apprentice's warning cries. There were so many of them, enough for Cross to break a sweat while fighting; the force of the Akumas' presence had reduced Allen to an utterly useless state. Cross shoved the boy behind a tree to keep him out of the way while he took care of the horde.

It was the last Akuma that circled around and found the boy. To his credit, Allen managed to dodge the first shots it fired. He rolled like an acrobat and Cross wondered where he learned it. The last poison bullet it fired before Cross sent it back to God caught him in the shoulder and spun him to the ground in a bloody heap. _Shit!_

Instantly Cross was at his side and pulling his clutching hand away from the wound to examine it. It was a clean shot, passing in through the front and exiting right above the shoulder bone. He pushed a finger into bloody hole, yelling at the boy to take it like a man when he shrieked. The bone hadn't shattered; it wasn't even nicked. The damage wasn't very severe. A wound like this from any other source would heal quickly and neatly, but Akumas carried poison.

The boy didn't know it yet, but he was dying. _Well, shit…_ Cross frowned; he wondered if he should break his thin little neck and spare him the suffering. _Stupid… stupid kid; why didn't he keep running? Oh hell, I told him to stay there… _It was such a small wound; it would take hours for the poison to completely work its way through his system. He was faced with an impossible decision.

He needed to save the Innocence the child carried in his body. If he waited too long, it might disintegrate with the rest of his body as the poison slowly ate it away; then again it might not. He wasn't exactly sure how it worked with a parasite type. His other option would be to remove it while the boy still lived. The thought turned his stomach; it would be as violent and traumatic as amputating a limb. If he couldn't extract it, he might have to do just that. He wondered if the knife he carried would be able to saw through bone.

"Master… it shot me!" the boy moaned and fisted a handful of Cross' coat. "I think I need a doctor…" Wide pale eyes stared up at him terrified. "It hurts! Help me… a doctor, please! Master, how bad is it?"

Cross hesitated. He wasn't sure if he could really tell the child he was already dead. He would panic, making his last few minutes even worse. Cross was a bastard, but even he had his limits. Instead of answering he pulled the little body half into his lap and helped make him comfortable. He would hold him till the end; as soon as he lost consciousness he would cut the Innocence from his hand. He reached into the soft leather of his boot and pulled his silver flask from its hiding place.

He tugged the stopper out with his teeth and a soft pop. "Here…" He hoped the alcohol would help him stay calm and ease his passing.

"What…?" the boy asked weakly. "I don't…"

"Drink up." Cross held the flask to the boy's lips and tilted it, helping him drink down the burning liquid. A faint grey star was appearing along his pale jaw. Cross frowned. Soon it would darken and more would appear; the inky black poison would spread and cover him, eating away from the inside and he would crumble to dust. _This is going to ruin my pants. _Cross thought guiltily. Allen choked on the liquor. "Drink more. It will dull the pain…"

"And then we go find a doctor, right?" Allen suddenly shuddered. He held up his right hand; a dark black star covered his palm. "Master, what… I don't feel too good. What's on me… it hurts…"

"Drink the rest." _I'm sorry kid…_ "Close your eyes, Allen…" The poison was spreading faster than expected; the rapid beating of the boy's heart was pushing it faster through his system. Cross was almost relieved by it. _This shouldn't take too long now… _"Just sleep. You trained really hard. You did a good job, Allen. I know you're tired. It's alright to be tired. You can sleep now…"

The boy arched and cried. "Something's wrong?!" he gasped hard for air. "Master! Tell me! What's happening to me?!"

Cross slid his hand over the boy's eyes. He didn't need to watch his skin char; no one needed to see that. Cross swallowed hard; he had seen so many die like this and as always he was powerless to help them. All he could do is comfort as best he could and protect the Innocence from its host's destruction. "You don't need a doctor…" Cross sighed; he didn't like to see children hurt, even if it was only a useless, irritating one like his apprentice. "I'm sorry Allen, I really am." He took a deep breath and decided to say it. "You're dying. There's nothing I can do…"

"Please… something. I'm gonna die…? There's gotta be something…" he hissed. "I don't wanna die…"

"I can make it quicker." Cross offered; he gently settled his hands on the boy's head. "You won't feel it." He wondered if he should wait for an answer or just go ahead and snap his neck. The skin under his fingers was grey, making his white hair even brighter. It felt powdery; Cross tried not to think about how the soft dusty sensation was coming from disintegrating flesh.

The grey stars were steadily blackening as more appeared. The little body trembled uncontrollably. "I'm really gonna die… aren't I?" there was an eerie calmness to his voice as the alcohol hit him hard. It was way too much for someone one so little. A small hand snaked into Cross' own. "Stay with me ok… I'm scared. It hurts. Is it gonna hurt much longer?"

"Drink more…" Cross found himself squeezing the little hand and hating himself for showing such weakness. Allen nodded against him and willingly gulped down the remaining contents of the metal flask. "It won't hurt… I've seen people die like this; it's peaceful…" he lied and tried to push the images of past comrades' screaming faces from his mind; he had seen it so often, the sight of crumbling flesh and exposed bone and the screams of terror and agony that lingered in the air and haunted him in his nightmares. A weaker man would have broken by now, but Cross was not a weak man.

The boy whimpered softly. "Think… think Mana's gonna come find me?" he shifted in Cross' lap to look at him. His eyes were glassy. "Like when I was little, he came to that place to find me and take me home… and, think… he'll come now and bring me home…" a faint smile ghosted across his grey, bloodless lips and he buried himself against Cross' body, loosely clutching at his clothes. "I miss him so much. I can't wait to go home… Mana, hurry; come find me, I need you to come get me… think he'll really come... that he can find me here?"

"Sure he will. Let's just wait for him here together." Cross stroked the boy's hair; it was so soft. Small chunks of it pulled free as his scalp lost its hold. "It's a long trip so just go to sleep… I'll wake you when he gets here." The boy nodded and smiled, happy at the promise.

For forty minutes Cross watched the little body lightly convulse and skin darken with ash. The boy mumbled nonsensical words and phrases as his body began to shut down. He reached and grabbed for things that weren't there. The slight breeze in the air took with it small clouds of ash from the little figure. Cross tried not to breathe it in.

Allen died without a fuss. Cross watched the light abandon those pale eyes and body go slack. It had been strangely peaceful. After Cross closed his eyes; he looked like he was sleeping… and horribly burned.

He shifted and laid the still figure on the ground. He hadn't fully dissolved save a few patches of skin where the blackened muscle and cartilage showed through. Cross considered him lucky. Most victims dissolved into dust while they were still alive and aware of it; they could do nothing but watch themselves die. He pulled his knife from its home on his belt and took up his left hand. Flesh flaked away at the touch. Cross figured he could just use the tip to pry the shard of Innocence free. He would burn the body to keep any of the remaining poison from leeching into the earth.

He took a moment to steady himself. He didn't know why the idea of opening the boy's hand was so off setting to him. He had done much worse; there was no reason for the hollow feeling in his stomach.

He didn't have a lot of time to analyze the feeling; there was a painfully rasping gasp from the ground. Cross started and stared down at the body. The boy's eyes and mouth were opened wide as he desperately pulled air into his lungs; his fingers clawing grooves in the dirt. His Innocence had activated on its own.

"Holy shit…" Cross mumbled. The blackened dead flesh appeared to be receding as new healthy skin grew back; it rippled and moved like a living thing. The pale eyes gazed ahead without focus, tears spilling freely as his body's systems painfully restarted after their brief vacation.

With a little gasp, Allen suddenly sat bold upright; he blinked owlishly at Cross. "_WHAT JUST HAPPENED?" _

Cross let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Welcome back Idiot."

"I... didn't go anywhere..." The boy glanced at the knife Cross still held. "What… you're not gonna cut are you…" he tried to move, but he had trouble controlling his repaired body and toppled over. "This isn't right… I didn't do that." he flexed his still transformed left hand. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and returned it to normal.

Cross was still processing what happened; the answer hit him like a ton of bricks. _Parasite type…_ he thought with a smile. _He has an immunity or something… do all parasites have that ability_? He had never thought to ask one. _It must run deeper than just his hand… shit I'm glad I found him first. _It made sense that a body carrying Innocence would be able to counteract the poison. Cross felt foolish for not thinking of the possibility of it earlier. He felt even more embarrassed about coddling the boy like he did.

He thumped the boy hard on the back, making him cough. He covered his mouth and brought up something vile and black. The boy looked horrified and gagged. Cross stood and walked away while the kid retched, his body working the remainder of the infected and decayed matter out from his stomach and lungs. Cross gave him a minute to compose himself before returning.

"That's a very useful thing you can do boy. From now on, you are both weapon and shield against Akuma. You will take their attacks in place of me or anyone else caught in the crossfire. You understand? Your body belongs to God; it's not yours to use. You are His shield and sword." Cross tapped him with his boot. "Get up… your shoulder is bleeding again. You better not need stitches… I'm not paying for it."

Allen climbed unsteadily to his feet and stumbled after the man. "Master…" he sighed with exhaustion. "Can I have a bath? I know it's not my bath night… but I feel really gross. It's like I rolled in sand or something. _What happened to me?_"

Cross wasn't going to tell him about his brief absence from the world of the living. The boy could figure that part out on his own. "Your stupid little body knows more than you do. You can purify an Akuma's poison inside you. You're just full of surprises… though you should try and take future shots in the arms and legs. Even though you can work through the poison, you still have a bullet wound to worry about."

"I got shot?!"

"It won't be the last time either…" Cross predicted with a smirk.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello all my dear sweet readers. I'm so sorry to leave you all hanging this long. I've had many things on my mind. Here is your long awaited update. If you are reading any of my other works, rest assured I'm working on another update now. I hope you enjoy. But first:

WARNING: this chapter contains Allen acting strange and Cross being his usual leacherous self.

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Cross' bed was bouncing. It struck him as odd since he was sleeping soundly up till that point. The girl he hired the night before had left a long time ago and the only other living beings in the area were Timcanpi and the Idiot. There was no way Tim could create that much motion and if it was the boy, he was going to gut him like a fish for waking him this early.

"Boy." He growled a warning. "I swear to God and all His angels… if I open my eyes and see you on my bed…" he couldn't think of a suitable threat this early in the morning, so instead he kicked roughly in the direction of his apprentice. The smack, thud and yelp as his foot contacted and sent the boy sprawling to the floor was immensely satisfying to hear.

Cross reached to the ashtray on the nightstand and took a drag on the cigarette he left smoldering there the night before. It was already past the filter and he swore in frustration. Lighting another he peered over the edge of the bed to where the boy landed and sprawled on the floor. The child was filthy, exhausted, but oddly happy looking. "Now…" he pulled another lungful of smoke into his body and exhaled it in rings. "You had better have a damn good reason for waking me…"

"I did it Master." The boy grinned joyously.

"Did what?"

"It!" The white haired boy rolled over, brushed his hair from his eyes and got to his feet. "I did it! My Innocence…"

Cross sat up fully and swung his feet off the side of the bed. "Let's see then."

The boy was practically beaming. His pale eyes slid shut; he ran a trembling fingertip gently over the wound in the back of his hand. With a pleasured gasp his head fell back and his arm transformed. "It doesn't hurt…" he said in a voice soft and slightly too breathy. A pale blush colored his cheeks. "It… now, it just feels…" he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "Weird."

Cross wanted to laugh. "Good!" he smiled before he could stop himself. It was obviously a _very good_ kind of weird he was feeling. He took in the disheveled look of the boy with a new interest. "You were up practicing it all night, weren't you?" he chuckled. Allen nodded, panting slightly and wetting his pale lips.

"It feels _that_ good huh?" he asked with a smirk. The blush on the boy's face deepened.

"Is that…" the little body shifted and half crawled onto Cross' bed. "Is that normal? It's… supposed to feel… like that?" he asked, genuine curiosity mixed with a little hint of shame.

"Don't be embarrassed, Idiot…" Cross leaned back against the headboard; he loved how uncomfortable this conversation was making his apprentice. The boy was holding his transformed arm close to his body; his thumb was running over his bottom lip, transformed fingers gently exploring his face. "Its part of your body… it's natural. God wants us to use our Innocence. If it was painful, you wouldn't want to do it, right? That's why it feels so…"

"_Amazing…_" Allen whispered with a little shiver, sliding his fingers down lightly his throat and tracing his collarbone.

His voice sounded thick; it was odd. Cross frowned; he shifted in the bed and closed the distance between them. He grabbed the boy's chin and forced him to look up at him. Allen's eyes were too dark; he shuddered again and leaned into the touch, brushing his lips against Cross' wrist. Cross frowned harder; this could get quickly out of control.

He was very familiar with the buzz that had hold of the boy and he could see now that an entire evening of invoking his Innocence without a proper outlet had left him a bit overwhelmed by it. He needed to fight, to kill an Akuma or two, or to be touched, something to get it out of his system. There were only so many other ways to get rid of that pent up energy and the way the boy was inching closer and practically mewling for contact showed he was quickly drifting to the worst possible option.

"Master…_please_…" he whimpered and slid closer, their knees touching. He held Cross' hand against his face; a pale tongue ghosted over the pad of his thumb. The boy had lost himself to the foreign sensations; he wasn't really in control anymore. Cross decided to put a stop to it when Allen gently rested a hand on his thigh and clutched at the fabric. Cross took hold of the boy's elbow and dragged him towards the bathroom. Little knees buckled at the touch.

"Ahh! Master, I… I need… _please…_ he moaned softly.

"Please what?" Cross continued dragging him across the floor by his transformed arm, pointedly ignoring the way the little body kept shivering.

Desperate eyes stared up at the adult. "_Something Master… I don't know…!_"

For one brief moment, Cross stared at his apprentice. He was tempted and it sickened him. The needy look on Allen's face, flushed skin and softly parted lips that gasped his name were almost too much; the top buttons of his little white shirt had come undone, showing a glimpse of white flesh. He imagined what he would taste like, how he would look pinned down, how he would react and cry out. Cross felt suddenly ill.

The boy was too young to even know what he was asking for, but he was willing to trust Cross to do it.

Cross hated himself for even thinking it. The boy was almost fourteen, still far too young; had he been three or four years older, he might have acted on it. He wasn't even particularly attractive, but there was something so honest about his reaction that was tremendously appealing. _Damn kid's really messing me up._

Cross snorted. "Don't worry. I know just what you need…" he pulled the child up and dropped him into the bathtub. "Pull yourself together." He turned on the shower and doused the boy with icy water. Allen shrieked in surprise as the frigid water soaked through his clothes. His arm returned to normal. "Clean up." Cross ordered. "Then go make my breakfast…"

Cross waited at the table, still in his nightclothes while the boy bathed. Ever since Allen's short experience with death, he had been acting different and Cross was working out a theory about it. The poison 'killed' the boy; of that Cross was sure… but his Innocence purified it and he lives. He drummed his fingers on the table and stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking, marring the wooden surface with a burn.

But what if it did more than just purify? The Innocence had always hurt him; Cross had assumed that the boy had a disturbingly low synchronization level for a parasite type. He reacted badly with it, body fighting and resisting it to the point of damaging himself. When Allen 'died' the Innocence took the opportunity to overrun his body's resistance to it. It possessed him and brought him back. It explained the lack of pain now and why the sensation of Invocation was enjoyable, as it should be.

The idea of being possessed by one's Innocence disturbed Cross on some level. It made it seem like it could function independently of its host's will. There were terrifying possibilities there. Like how Allen was just acting. His Innocence had been possessing him, not a lot, but enough to warrant a dramatic change in his personality. What would happen if it were ever to completely take him over? He was terrifyingly powerful; who knew what kind of things he would be capable of doing if ever becoming completely possessed? Even worse, what if he was in control? Cross swallowed hard; he didn't like to think about such things this early in the day.

On a much deeper gut level Cross was bothered by the way Allen nuzzled his hand. He was certain the boy hated him; it frightened him that he would still trust him like that. The boy would have let him, really would have let him push him down; let him finish undoing those little buttons, let him… He pushed the thought away, disgusted by it. Cross was a man comfortable with his loose morals; it was almost a point of pride for him, but anything under sixteen, especially a boy marked a line that he couldn't personally cross.

He remembered he was very young his first time, younger than the boy bathing in the other room anyways. He had matured very quickly as a child, much faster than his friends and classmates. He stood out like a sore thumb with his height and unruly crimson hair.

Cross smiled at the memory; he had been helping his childhood friend and first girlfriend, Sara's mother in her garden. Sara was a sweet girl and their relationship had been one of equally sweet affection; she was his first kiss. But it was Sara's mother who was true first. She was so beautiful and on one sweltering day invited him inside for a drink. It had been everything a boy could have dreamed of and much more.

Allen emerged from the bathroom clean, but still embarrassed. "Master?" Cross hummed, mildly amused; the boy was bright red and stuttered his words. "Sorry… I was being…um. Thank you… um for not…"

Cross did laugh then. "Thank me, by making my breakfast boy." Instead of obeying instantly, Allen came and sat at the table. He was still looking troubled. "What now, boy?" Cross asked with a hint of irritation; pleasant memories of Sara's mother were still playing through his mind.

The boy fidgeted uncomfortably. "Is… is something wrong with me?"

"Plenty… but what specifically?"

"The Akuma; since that day and… the Akuma… I feel weird." He drummed his wine red fingers on the table, before clenching them into a fist. "Did something happen to me? I feel so weird."

"You died." Cross told him as if simply discussing the weather.

"I died?!" Allen blurted out loudly.

"Just a little bit…"

"How can someone die 'just a little bit'?" he croaked.

Cross sneered and rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm lying to you again. You've synchronized better with your Innocence. You don't hurt anymore, right?"

"Right…" he blushed again. "But… is this normal? How it feels now…"

"It's as normal as you're likely to get." Cross rubbed at his temple; the boy was certainly a slow one. The boy shifted in his seat and looked like he wanted to say more. "Look…" Cross finally said a bit irately. "I'm tired of you and I'm hungry. You're fine. I'm glad your Innocence finally feels good to use. I'm going to catch a damn Akuma and let you have a go at it today… but, for right now get your lazy ass out of here and make my breakfast…" he paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Make something for yourself if you have time…"

Allen quickly turned and hurried down the creaking stairs that led form their room to the lower floor of the inn, leaving Cross alone with his thoughts. He lit another coffin nail and took a deep breath. He was thinking about taking a detour through part of southern China on the way to India.

The best house of ill repute he had ever been to was there and it had been years since he hade seen the lovely madam of the house. She had a daughter; he wondered how old she was now. It would do him some good to get one last little vacation before finishing his business in India. China dolls would be good for the Idiot too; he seemed to always look a little longer at the fair sex with black hair and almond eyes. Cross chuckled; as if he didn't notice, Allen was a growing boy after all.

Cross washed his face and dressed and went to find his useless apprentice. To the boy's credit, he was cooking furiously. The smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee filled the kitchen. The owner of the inn, though at first was surprised to see the young boy at work in her kitchen, was now used to seeing her tenants helping themselves.

"There are eggs too…" Allen said softly. "I can make some, if you like…"

"Make an omelet… with cheese…" The boy brought him a cup of strong coffee and a little china plate with little sugar bowl and cream pourer. He knew just how Cross liked his coffee, but he always brought cream and sugar just in case. Today Cross spooned in a heap of sugar and enough cream to change the color of his coffee to a light brown.

Allen worked furiously at the stove. If he finished making Cross' meal in time then he could make his own. Cross knew he should give the boy some more time to eat. He was still far too thin. Maybe if they could find an Akuma or two and if the boy did a good job, he could send him out for some decent food as a reward.

With that thought in mind, Cross set out with his apprentice to explore the lazy town for any signs of an Akuma's presence. It was a disappointing exercise; there was nothing of interest for hours. Cross finally stopped at a café and started a game of dominoes with an old man to pass the time. There was always the chance that they had found a town untouched by the evil of the Earl; stranger things had happened before.

It started to rain that afternoon. He made Allen stay in the downpour and laughed at his discomfort. The boy just frowned and sent him dirty looks. Cross ignored him and started another game. It wasn't until the boy started sniffling that he paid any more attention to him.

Allen sneezed loudly. _Oh damn that useless child…_ Cross though with a sigh. _This is the last thing I need, really now…_ "Alright then, back to the inn." He excused himself from the game and steered the sniveling boy back towards their rented room. Cross was in a foul mood by the time they reached it. His clothes had been soaked through with the cold rain.

He made Allen wait outside the room while he stripped out of the clinging damp fabric. He left his clothes in a soggy pile in the center of the room while he took a brief shower to warm up. The boy was already sick; he figured a few more minutes spent dripping in the hall wouldn't make any difference. Cross couldn't afford to let himself become ill as well.

The water burned against his cold skin. Cross smiled to himself; the boy must be miserable out there. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled free any loose strands and untangled the little knots that had formed.

There was a soft knock on the door. "What now, boy?" he hissed. Through the mist of steam he could see the door open slightly. An eye with inverted color peered in.

"There's an Akuma outside, Master…"

"Well don't just stand there… Idiot, go do something about it." He snapped back. Cross hoped to hear the door shut, but he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. Allen made a worried sound. "Fine! Go keep it busy… I'll be right out. I want to see your new control over your Innocence, you understand me?"

Cross groped blindly for a towel and fixed it around his waist. He planned on getting right back in the bath when he returned. He had fought in the nude before, but it was cold enough outside to prove embarrassing. Quickly he put his mask back in place and stormed out the bathroom door, knocking Allen down in the process. He smiled as Judgment formed in his hand and grabbed a cigarette from the table.

"Master?!" Allen blurted out in surprise.

"What?!" Cross snarled.

"Nothing…"

"Damn right nothing…" he mumbled. _I must look like a mad man_. He didn't bother with his boots as he stomped down the stairs and into the street, his apprentice stumbling behind him. It was still drizzling cold rain and soon his hair was matted against his head and neck.

The Akuma had already shed its human form. The inn keeper was screaming at it to go away. It was steadily destroying the side of the building.

Cross took aim and let some of his energy pour into the bullet. It wouldn't miss. His Innocence hummed through his veins and made him forget the chill in the air. He smiled darkly and fired. From behind he felt Allen activate his own Innocence. "Boy…" he said. "Go set it free… finish it." It was an order; God help the boy if he didn't do it.

"Yes, Master."

Cross felt a strange surge of pride as the boy rushed forward. His attacks were still sloppy, uncoordinated, but he threw everything he had into them. It took three strikes, but the boy did it. Allen stumbled back to him. "I did it…" he smiled even as his eyes rolled back and his body pitched forward.

"Yeah… you did it." Cross acknowledged as he caught the light form before his head could strike the ground. His skin was far too warm. He slung him over his shoulder and started back inside. "Don't worry…" he told the innkeeper as he passed. "The boy will pay for the damages… could you have dinner sent up in about an hour?"

He deposited the boy on the floor and quickly finished his shower. Feeling refreshed Cross dressed and pulled his long hair back into a low ponytail. He dragged the Idiot to the bathroom. Allen stirred weakly and groaned. "Just had to go and get yourself sick…" he pushed the rubber stopper into the bath drain and filled the tub with hot water. "You're a mess kid, you know that?"

Cross started to peel the wet clothes from the boy, but the child panicked and whined. "Nooo… don't…"

"Relax, Idiot. I'm not going to do anything to you…" He slapped at the boy's protesting hands_. Too much trouble…_ "Fine. Do it yourself… get in the damn tub and warm up." He stood and kicked him lightly in frustration before leaving him there. Cross knelt and dug through the pile of his laundry that the boy hadn't gotten around to washing yet. He untied the knot in his sock and freed Timcanpi from his woolen prison.

The golem squeaked at him indignantly as he grabbed it and hauled it to the bathroom. He threw the door open and scared the daylights out of the boy in the tub. Cross threw Tim at him. "Here… baby sit the boy. Make sure he doesn't drown." Tim settled on Allen's head. "Kid, hurry up. I _will eat your dinner_ if you're not out by the time it gets here."

Cross pulled the little notebook from his travel bag, went to the table and sat down to wait. He thumbed through it to see if the boy's father had written any note on how to care for him when he was sick.

"I want that back…" The boy was back. He looked paler than usual.

"You'll get it back when I'm ready…" Cross said lightly as Allen climbed into the chair across from him. "You're spoiled enough as it is… two baths in one day."

They ate in silence, punctuated only by the occasional cough, sneeze or sniffle from the sick boy. Cross made him go to bed directly after dinner. He hadn't eaten much; that had Cross a bit worried. He hated it.

"Master?" Allen's soft voice woke him in the early hours of the morning.

Cross grunted and rolled over determined to ignore him.

"Master?" he sniffled and tried again. "I had a nightmare… can I sleep in here with you?"

"What? Of course not… go back to your cot." Cross grumbled.

"Please… just for a little bit?" Cross grunted again and a little fist smacked his shoulder. "I hate you…"

Cross sat up. "What is _wrong_ with you?!" He caught the thin wrist. "Did you just hit me?!"

"I hate you…" The boy feebly pushed at his hand. "You hate me… you wish I was dead…"

Cross finally was awake enough to understand the boy. "You're sick…you have a fever, stupid boy." Cross was sure it was the fever talking. He looked around the room quickly as if he expected to see anyone there to witness what he was about to do. "Here…" he pulled the little body over and into his bed. "If you're going to be such a pain, I'll have to keep you here. I don't want to have to get up to check on you. Don't die in your sleep… and don't get me sick. If you're going to throw up… just don't, or lean out the window."

He lifted the blankets and let his apprentice crawl in next to him. "Thank you…" Allen whispered.

"Shut up. Tell anyone and I'll kill you."

"Master?"

"I mean it, boy. I will kill you." he growled.

"Do they hurt?"

"What?" _I'm going to kill him in the morning._ "Does what hurt?"

"Your scars…"

"Sometimes." Cross mumbled. He was troubled. A caring man would be proud of Allen's progress or worried about his health. A caring man would; but Cross was not a… He sighed and let his arm rest across Allen's shoulders. "Go to sleep. You did a good job today, boy."

Cross knew what kind of man he was.


	9. Chapter 9

My deepest apologies for taking so long only to deliver such a short chapter. i felt it would be cruel asking you all to wait longer, so i'm posting what i have ready. i hope you enjoy.

Warning: Chapter contains mild adult themes and the introduction of Anita.

* * *

_Cross was trying hard to keep his focus on the elegant woman perched on his thigh, her shirt was long gone so it shouldn't have been a problem; but, the younger woman that kept peeking around the corner was terribly distracting. He never saw her face just a flash of long black hair as she ducked out of sight when he tried to spy her. _

"_How old is she?" he finally broke down and asked, hating to acknowledge the other girl while he was kissing her mother. _

"_Not old enough…" and a possessive press of lips to his was his answer. Their tongues battled for dominance for a moment; he let her win. He always let her win. "Not this year… come back next year and we'll talk about her…"_

"_She keeps looking…"_

_The woman laughed like a bell. "You can't be embarrassed, Cross Marion… not you… of all men you can't possibly be afraid to perform in front of an audience." _

_Cross felt immensely stupid. Of course such things didn't bother him. He growled and pulled her long hair and put a mark on her pale throat. Her gasp was delightful. "Doesn't bother me one bit… you just said she's too young."_

"_My girl isn't stupid. She knows what we're doing…" she sat back and with her talented hands began unbuttoning Cross' shirt. "I'm grooming her to run this place after me. Do you know what that means for you?" she arched a perfect black eyebrow and put on his necktie. It hung perfectly between her bare breasts. "She wants to take you as her lover… you're a lucky bastard."_

"_I'm a lucky bastard." He repeated with a broad lascivious grin. "Anita is an odd name for her though…" something about her name didn't mesh right with him. _

"_Her father was European." Cross felt a brief flutter of panic as he tried to remember just how long ago his last visit to China was. It must have shown on his face. "Its not you." she soothed and let her hands drift and knead the muscles of his chest. He gave a relieved sigh. "Honestly General, what would you do if you found you had children?"_

"_I would feel sorry for the little bastards and send money to their mothers to tell them I'm dead." From the corner of his eye he caught another glimpse of Anita. She was watching them again. Cross grinned. "You're beautiful." He said loud enough for her to hear. _

_The woman on his lap turned and smiled at her daughter. She waved her away. "Isn't she? She wants you to be her first… if you can afford it…" The very thought instantly made his blood heat and pool. "But remember…" she took his face in her hands. "You're here for me right now." She blessed him with a searing kiss and he let his mind drop into that primitive state where only touch and movement existed. _

Cross woke alone in a cold bed. His bedclothes were dirtied. "Damn it…" he muttered and ran a hand through his damp hair. The dream had felt far too real and his body had believed it. He stumbled to the bath to clean up. A quick glance showed his apprentice was still soundly asleep and snoring on his cot in the corner. Timcanpi lazily raised a wing and acknowledged him before snuggling back into Allen's blankets.

"Shit…" Cross still growled as he shut the bathroom door. This kind of thing hadn't happened to him in years and he was deeply mortified. The scene his subconscious had decided to treat him to had happened years ago. Tomorrow he would be going back for the first time since that night. He thought of Anita. She was definitely old enough now and he smiled at the thought. The girl had been so taken with him. "Wonder if she's still interested…"

He knew she would be. How could she not? He changed his clothes quickly, dumping the old in the growing pile of laundry. The Idiot would be busy washing for the next day or so which would give him plenty of time to meet with his old lover and negotiate a price for Anita's First Night. She would have waited for him; he just knew it.

"I am a lucky bastard…" he mumbled to himself that night as he sat waiting to meet the Madam of the house. Some sweet young thing had already given him a drink; it was strong. He left the useless boy with orders to stay in at the inn and have all his clothing washed and pressed. He wore his finest tonight.

The building was as opulent and gaudy as ever, bright lights and oddly traditional architecture. There was a new bouncer at the door, well muscled and imposing. Cross was almost surprised to see it was a woman. She was frightening, but he felt he was a progressive man. Women could do anything they wanted and if that included being a terrifying bodyguard, well it was fine with him. She was glaring at him. Cross winked at her and grinned. He wondered what it would be like to be beaten up by such a woman. It might even be fun. _Maybe I should ask…_

He was settled into the main room, on a pile of pillows that covered the floor. Some randomly attractive girl brought him another bottle of wine. It was a good vintage and he nearly chugged his first glass full. Everything was red and violet, just a little different since his last visit. He thought back to last night's lewd dream and wished the Lady of the house would hurry the hell up.

The General couldn't hold back the lascivious grin as the Madam finally made her entrance, muscled body guard at her heels. She hadn't aged a day; just as stunning as the last day they met so many years ago. He took his time to look her over, savoring every little detail.

Her clothes were a mockery of tradition. A bundle of silks and sashes that were worn in all the wrong ways on all the right places; they revealed everything that they should have obscured. Her robes cascaded down off her shoulders, showing a graceful unbroken line from her tapered jaw to her chest and further. It created a space that Cross would have been happy to live in for the rest of his life. Her skin glowed in the muted lighting of the room. He could see the faint gloss of makeup she used to create the magical effect. He was going to be covered in it by the night's end.

Only when she smiled, did Cross notice the slight differences on her face. Her eyes were wider spaced, bigger, doe eyes. Her hair was darker. No lines marked her face to show her age as they should have. It wasn't the same woman.

"Well… I'll be damned." He breathed. "Anita, you've grown up." She had grown up.

"General," she tilted her head in greeting. The baubles and ribbons in her hair swayed gently with the slight motion, hypnotizing the General where he sat. For the briefest moment he felt like a small animal staring up at a predator; and he liked it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. You've kept me waiting for so long…"

"The pleasure's all mine, I assure you." He flashed his most dashing smile when the corner of her mouth quirked up in a hint of excitement. The air of the room felt suddenly heavy.

"Mother spoke very often of you… and the plans you negotiated for me." Anita sat slowly, the art of her carefully disheveled clothing was hard to maintain with too much movement. She sat close enough to touch, but Cross didn't dare move. This was a sweet kind of torture and he loved the game.

"So sorry my dear." He spread his hands as if to say 'it couldn't be helped.' "I had to save the world."

She arched a perfect black eyebrow, a gesture that reminded him of her mother. "And left me to languish in your absence…"

"Now, now pet…" he soothed. "I'm sure you've had plenty to keep you busy as… manager." He made that word sound dirty. He had taken to long; she hadn't waited for him. Why would she? Truthfully, he was a little disappointed. He had been looking forward to being her first. Not that he minded being any one of her many, but he still felt a little robbed of the opportunity her mother had promised him. She knew he would treat the girl well.

"Oh no…" she tapped a knowing finger to her red, red lips. "That's not the case at all…" Cross made an interested sound. "My price has tripled."

He nearly spit the wine he was drinking. "What?!"

Anita daintily took the glass before he could spill it. "Tell me General…" she sipped some of the deep red liquid in a way that was innocent and yet completely obscene. "How much do you know about wine?"

"Its delicious, it comes in many different tastes… all wonderful in their own ways and I can never have enough." This was turning into an interesting game. He took a deep breath to try and hold back his excitement. Just where was she going with this?

"It only increases in value by vintage and rarity." She dipped a manicured finger into the glass and swirled the liquid. "The older it is…" she licked her finger and Cross thought he would die just watching her. "The rarer… one of a kind it is, the more valuable it is." Anita leaned back. "It's expensive because it's never been tasted…"

_Dear Lord…_ Cross thought as she slid her hand to a gap in her robe at her knee and started pulling the fabric back, exposing a line of creamy white thigh.

"This cork hasn't been… popped yet."

Cross' heart stopped in his chest. She _had_ waited for him. He was going to pay anything and she knew it. Hell, he would give the Idiot Apprentice is she asked; screw the fate of the world and the battle of good and evil. He needed her now!

He swallowed hard and tried to find his voice. "So," he finally managed. "You're an incredibly rare vintage are you?" he had to play it cool; he couldn't let her know how easily she was winning. "You know old wine is either going to be ambrosia or vinegar when it's finally opened. What if I find you taste unpalatable?" he grinned and took back his now half empty glass and downed it in one shot. Its burn was smooth and soothing as it ran down his throat.

"Then you are a stupid man who knows nothing about how to appreciate good wine and was tricked." She leaned in close enough for him to smell the lingering alcohol on her breath and the perfume on her neck. "I don't think Cross Marion is a stupid man." She moved in ever so slightly, her lips so very close… then abruptly pulled away. "My price stays. Your choice, General." She stood and quickly walked to the door. "Wine prices are on the rise. I'll find a buyer for my vintage with ease…" she peered around the door frame and over her shoulder at him. Her robe slipped dangerously lower. "I'm a steal at this price. Don't keep me waiting… stupid man."

For a moment Cross could only sit there frozen in shock. She had called his bluff; he honestly couldn't remember the last time a woman had done that. He nearly pulled his hair in frustration. If he wanted her he was going to have to swallow his pride and beg for it. She was a clever devil of a woman and that only increased her appeal. He leaned back onto the mass of pillows on the floor, determined not to follow her. He wasn't going to do it. He just wasn't. He drummed his fingers on his knee and looked for the bottle to refill his empty glass. As he poured, the image of Anita lapping the wine from her fingers rose unbidden to his mind.

"Damn it." he growled as he got up. He crossed the room in two steps and hurried down the hall after her. Cross Marion was not a stupid man. Damn the cost; he could always pass the bill to the Idiot.

Cross returned to his rented room in a better mood than he had been in ages. Anita had been well worth every cent. He stayed for two whole days in and around her bed, and once in the bath… and once in the kitchen and once in at least every other room in the building and twice outside in the garden. That had been good for his soul. He hadn't realized just how long it had been since he had been with a really good woman.

She had been eager, not the nervous blushing virgin he had half expected. Technically, he supposed they were lovers now; though he had made it clear that his visits would be few and far between. Even now as he was leaving China for the bed of another woman, they were lovers. He knew she would entertain other men as well. Still, they had shared something incredibly special and it would bind them forever.

He left town in a hurry, before he could become attached to her; before leaving her side could become painful.

Anita was almost his match, almost. She was beautiful; she was smart. He enjoyed her company, but like all the women in his life she wasn't _her_. She was just another replacement for _her, _another substitution. If Cross could have loved anyone else it would be Anita. Cross almost wished he could give her his heart; that he had a heart left to give.


	10. Chapter 10

So sorry for this long overdue update. I'll say in my defense, the last few chapters of the manga series have shaken me up and basically ruptured all my works in progress. I've ended up deleting and rewriting whole chapters for this story as i worked out a way to incorporate the new information from the series. i want to stay as close to the universe created there as possible. Cross' thought process is a mirror of my own as i'm trying to figure out the connections between allen, mana and the fourteenth. i'll have more of that in the next chapter.

Warning: The beginning of this chapter features a very drunken General coming close to crossing a line with poor sleeping Allen.

* * *

Allen was dreaming. And Cross, drunker than he had been in ages, was watching him. He felt so dirty; and he liked it. The little noises the boy was making and the sweat on his brow left very little doubt in his mind as to what he was dreaming about. Dirty dreams were just another part of growing up. Cross swore under his breath at how he had to deal with the general inconvenience of it all.

He was fifteen now or would be in just a few more months. That thought made Cross feel only slightly better about what he was thinking. He was drunk enough to consider it. He was _actually considering it_. It was only a short jump from thought to action, but it was a line he had never crossed before. Especially with one so young… and male. Maybe that was why his blurry mind was so interested.

Not that gender had ever stopped him before; he had tried all ends of the spectrum and probably even invented a few new ones. He liked what he liked and he always took what he liked. Cross never liked taking no for an answer. It was just a signal to go slower. He never forced anyone, not really. That kind of action was unsightly and didn't fit with the way Cross defined himself as a gentleman. He would never use force; besides, he didn't have to. It was just a matter of convincing them. Sometimes it took his talented hands a few minutes to procure a yes; sometimes it took days, if he didn't lose interest first. Still he could respect someone who said no to him.

He stared at the sleeping figure. Allen wasn't going to get a chance to say no. No, he would fight him tooth and nail. At least he would at first. Cross would have to make him agree; he would have to go disturbingly close to forcing him. Then the boy would beg. He was sure of it. Cross could make him agree; make him cry for it, make him love it and want it.

He let his mind drift, picturing those pale eyes staring into his. The boy didn't make eye contact with him; he just didn't like to. Cross would hold his chin and make him look. Part of him wanted to see the streak of panic they would hold and watch it change into a delicious combination of hate and fear. He had seen those eyes on the boy before. He would watch them dissolve into a shamefully pleasured haze as he tried, as Cross was sure he would, to deny what his body wanted. He imagined doing all sorts of things to the youth with a disturbing sense of satisfaction.

But before any of that could happen, the boy would fight him. Maybe he would even invoke his Innocence. Cross almost smiled at the notion; he wasn't sure if he could win against him in that situation. He was too drunk to fight. It would be a grand battle. Unless he didn't wake up... Fighting that little body would be way more effort than Cross was willing to waste, but if he stayed asleep that could prove interesting in its own right.

The room was far too hot, even with the windows open to let in the tepid night air. If there was one thing he hated about India, it was the heat; the heat and the food. Allen's night shirt had ridden up; his pale stomach exposed for the entire world to see. Through the alcoholic haze that held him, Cross wanted to touch it. The youth whimpered and rolled over, taking the view with him.

Cross was torn. He was better than this. Logically he knew he should just walk out the door, stumble really, and find a girl. His useless apprentice was just that, useless. Allen was a skinny brat. Cross sighed, even as he moved his chair closer to the bed, his knees touching the side. Sure, he was a skinny, horrible brat and every moment Cross had to endure in his presence was a testament to his patience; but, he was here now.

Cross decided that no matter what course of action he went with tonight, he couldn't wake the boy. It would just be too troublesome. He reached out a single hand and, not touching, let it hover over Allen's hip; still not sure he could get away with it. Dimly, he knew if he started anything now he would have to finish it. Too much to drink had his hand shaking; he hated that, but if he were sober he wouldn't even be in this situation. If he touched that frail body now, he wouldn't be able to stop. Allen was a heavy sleeper; if he was careful he wouldn't wake him. His mind was slurring rationalizations at him.

The boy groaned softly and shifted again. Cross wondered which he would ultimately regret more, touching him or not. Allen made another needy whimper, licked his lips and with a breathy sigh made up Cross' mind for him.

Better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission. He wasn't going to go too far; it wasn't like he was going to take the boy. No amount of alcohol could ever make that happen. That would certainly wake him if he tried anyways. Just touch… He would help that stupid little body finish what a hormone fueled dream had started. Just enough touch to satisfy his own curiosity and aching body.

Cross let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding as he tentatively touched Allen's human arm. It was a nice neutral place, somewhere that wouldn't be misinterpreted if it woke the boy. He didn't stir. The boy's skin was far too hot. Cross knew that overly warm bodies came with being a parasite type. They just naturally ran hot.

They also died young, almost without fail. Cross could only think of one who made it past age thirty. He was a rare exception; his Innocence having been dormant until he was twenty-nine. Allen would be lucky if he made it to twenty-five. With power like his, even twenty was a stretch. His Innocence was going to devour him from the inside. They burned bright and hot and impossibly fast.

_All the more reason to keep going now…_ he thought blearily. Carefully he let his hand trail up upwards, pausing at the shoulder to check for any sign of wakefulness. Allen just sighed and shifted.

Cross felt decidedly nervous. He knew he was doing something very wrong and yet here he was, doing it anyways. It was so very wrong and he liked it. He liked the threat of the boy waking up, catching him while he tried to take advantage of him. Cross found himself almost hoping he would wake; just so he could see his embarrassed face, see the anger in those pale eyes.

The boy's eyes were too soft. Cross needed to see the fire return to them. He knew it was there; he just had to bring it out. Behind the terrified grey was something powerful when Allen was forced to fight. Sometimes it even seemed as if there was something else looking out through the boy's eyes; something inside that was watching, waiting for the right time to make its presence known. He needed to do more to make his apprentice hate him, fear him. It was the only way to make him strong. The world was a cruel place and Cross had to be even crueler to prepare the boy for it._ This is for his sake… _

His fingertips glided over the vulnerable skin of his neck, dipping into the hollows of his collarbone. He ghosted them over those pale lips, almost delighting at the feel of Allen's breath on them. Feeling almost giddy, Cross traced the cursed scar on his cheek. It was a deep dent in otherwise smooth skin. Allen ached away from that touch and groaned.

For a moment, Cross felt guilty, but not near enough to stop. He shifted and tried to find a more comfortable position for his aching body. It was starting to become painful. He wouldn't sit on the bed with his sleeping apprentice. It would be too easy to become tempted to do more than he was comfortable with at the moment; he might touch with more than his hands. Somewhere along the lines of blurred thought he decided that it would only be his hands. Hands were easy to wash. Allen was a dirty brat and he didn't want to dirty any more of himself than necessary. He was too drunk to really stay upright in the shower and he was sure he would drown if he passed out in the bathtub. To a degree, hands could also be explained away if the boy woke.

When Allen moved again, he took the opportunity to pull up his night shirt as far as he dared. Cross folded his hand on the edge of the bed, looking like a child saying its bedtime prayers and watched the boy. The pale chest before him rose and fell gently as the youth breathed. For the briefest moment, as Cross stared, he thought he was beautiful. He pushed the thought from his mind as soon as it came. It was stupid. _I must be really… really trashed. This is a bad idea… _

Before he could finish talking himself out of continuing, he had both hands on that burning skin. He looked so small under Cross' large hands. He almost shuddered, unable to believe that just touch was having such an effect on him. Allen made a mewling sound and he nearly came undone right there. _This is so wrong!_

Even in his sleep, Allen moved away from Cross' inquisitive touches. It was obvious that his body was enjoying the attention, but the sounds he made were quickly becoming more panicked than pleasured. Somehow it made the General even more interested. _I'm such a bastard…_

Next time, if there was a next time; Cross resolved that he would want the boy awake for this. He would probably have to get him drunk first. Cross nudged at the waist band of the youth's boxers. Little bit by little bit he worked them down until he could clearly see the sharp jut of his hip bones. He stopped when he saw the scars.

Hidden from the waking world, the boy was a sick network of thin scars. They were old, fine and nicely healed; their light color made them nearly invisible against that pale skin. Cross stared. _What the hell? When did…? _He leaned in and examined one on the inside of his hip bone. Round and small, he recognized the shape. Cross knew a cigarette burn when he saw one.

_This feels wrong_. He abandoned that whole area and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his face with his hands; he wasn't a quitter. Locking his eyes on Allen's tight face, he settled his hand back on the thin hip. His thumb rubbing the little burn scar.

Allen practically convulsed at the touch. He cried out unhappily. Cross frowned. The boy was crying, actually crying in his sleep. It was disappointing; he liked seeing Allen miserable, especially if he was the one causing it. However, there was something definitely wrong with this. He absently kept petting the boy's side and chest as he tried to force his blurry mind to make a decision.

"Please… stop." The boy whimpered in his sleep. Vaguely surprised, Cross halted all movement. "Hurts… please, nooo… don't…" Whatever dream the boy was having had turned into something much more sinister. All signs of his body's enjoyment were gone; a pale hand frantically gripped the sheets. "_Hurts! Out of_… please, _too much_!"

That did it. Cross pulled away as if burned. Allen's last pained cry was far more effective than any bucket of ice water or freezing shower. All the interest he had found in the boy was gone in that instant, leaving him only with an unfamiliar feeling of guilt. "Well… shit." He mumbled out loud. He roughly shook the boy's shoulder. The kid was having a pretty bad nightmare; he would be worthless tomorrow if Cross let it continue. "Alright, Idiot. Wake up…" he growled.

The boy started almost violently and sat up with a dismayed yelp. Pale eyes darted frantically around the room before settling on Cross' frowning face. "Wha…?"

"You were having a nightmare." Cross drawled.

Allen glanced about again, taking in the sight of his master sitting by his bed. "Agh!" he grabbed the blanket around him protectively. "What are you…" he frowned hard and looked suddenly deeply disturbed. "Were you… _were you watching me sleep_?"

Cross barked a laugh. "Yeah, you're really funny… good entertainment." Cross couldn't help but smirk. "Any good dreams?"

The boy turned as red as his arm. Obviously he remembered what had been running through his sleeping mind. "You were sitting there and watching me sleep?!" Cross shrugged; there was no point in denying it. "How long were you there?" Allen asked suspiciously.

"Not long…" Cross tried to act nonchalant, but he was far too drunk to pull it off effectively. "You were loud… shouting. Woke me up… I don't like being woken up. You're gonna pay for that in the morning."

"Why wait till morning?" Allen snapped with frustrated embarrassment. "Things like a lack of day light never stopped you before…" he glared at him. "And I don't believe you… you _actually brought a chair_ over and _sat there_… _watching me sleep_!"

"I did bring a chair…" Cross would admit the obvious. "I'm too trashed to stay upright." His voice slurred as if to confirm it. His stomach turned with an abrupt lurch. "Actually… I think I'm gonna throw up now…" he really hadn't overindulged this severely in a long time. Hangovers were a familiar thing, as was passing out in a drunken stupor. Cross couldn't remember the last time he had drank to the point of forceful expulsion. To be fair, he also couldn't seem to remember how to walk at the moment.

Cross spent the next hour sitting in an undignified manner in the bathroom before the porcelain alter. Allen held back his hair. He didn't order him to do that, but the boy was there anyways. Cross couldn't believe what he had almost done to him. It soured his stomach and he leaned over to empty it again. A small hand was rubbing his back as he coughed. _I'm a bastard…_

The last few hours of the night passed in a blur. Somehow the general woke in his own bed. His apprentice was downstairs cooking. Through his raging headache he could hear the muffled bangs and clacks of pans and utensils at work. Cross groaned and forced himself to sit up. His bleary eyes drifted to the bottles and glasses that sat heaped upon the little table. Under all that debris was a letter.

He buried the slip of paper under wine and liquor bottles just as he had tried to bury its contents in his mind with the contents of the bottles. A letter was such an innocent thing, but this one had shaken the man. It was more proof that God didn't play dice with the world. He played his own game and wasn't going to tall anyone the rules.

Cross dragged himself to the rickety table and heavily sat down. Drumming his fingers in frustration, he tried not to think about that awful paper. A golem from the Order had delivered it yesterday morning. Cross had read it, then re-read it, sent a telegram to someone who might know something else and then started drinking. Now that he was nearly sober he knew he should examine it yet again. Someone in his pay had worked very hard to gather such information; he owed it to them to fully look into it.

The Fourteenth had a name. The Fourteenth had family. His family name was Walker.

Cross listened to the sounds of cooking downstairs. It could always be a coincidence; it was a common enough surname. But, something was nagging at him. In his experience, coincidences were never just that. Everything was connected. The how and why was never clear, but the connections were there.

He knew the Fourteenth. They had met years ago. The man was a traitor to his 'other family'; he was on the run. He told Cross about his circumstances. He spoke about his plans, but not enough information for Cross to use. He filed it all away; it may not be useful now but he was sure it would come in handy someday. He really could care less about musical instruments. When they parted ways, he set a select few Finders on the traitor Noah. He never said his name; he didn't know the man's name. The Finder's followed him and sent Cross all the information they could gather. He knew when the man died; he also knew that before he did, he passed his 'will' to another.

He never learned the man's name until now. As he read the letter, his mind started making connections. It raced from one thought to another. Each with greater and greater ramifications than the last. It was enough to make him reach for the bottle. He checked each one and sighed to find they were all dry.

It wasn't the Idiot's adoptive father. He was sure of that. At the time he had suspected the man of being something more than just a human, but he wasn't. Thinking back, Cross could see a resemblance. Brothers? Cousins at least…Why he didn't notice it then was beyond him. He was preoccupied; Mana Walker was already dying at the time. The Innocence he carried had reacted to the man, but not normally. Mana Walker was almost something. He was one step to the left of being compatible and one step to the right of being a Noah. He was connected to both, but belonged to neither. If disease hadn't taken him, something else would have. The man was destined to be another grey casualty in the black and white war.

He tried to reason that it didn't matter. Allen was not related by blood to either. Cross sighed and checked the bottles once more; they remained frustratingly empty. "It's almost too convenient…" he mumbled as he lit his cigarette. "How does a guy with a Noah as a blood relative end up finding a kid with Innocence…? The Fourteenth was already dead for years by then… so, who has his 'will'?"

It felt like the clues were all there, spread out before him. Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle; only here the pieces were spread out on the floor of a blackened room and all he had to see by was the light of a single match. He just had to put them together little bit at a time. He may not see the whole picture for years to come.

In the absence of any real information Cross entertained himself with theories. First, what if the late Mana Walker was indeed related to the Fourteenth? What if they were closely related, brothers? Assuming they were, how much did Mana know? Did he know his brother was a Noah? If he did, did he help him turn traitor? The Fourteenth had told Cross upon their meeting that he did not travel alone. Was it his brother that was with him?

Cross lit another smoke and hoped that his telegram was received. First he had to find out if Mana Walker had any relatives that would fit the profile of the Fourteenth. If he didn't have any family, then it really could be just a coincidence. Cross wanted to make certain before he thought much deeper on the subject. That meant going to someone who knew him. He was going to put his personal business in India on hold for a few days and wait for a reply from the colorful Widow Madeline.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry for the delay and the short chapter. i hope its not too disappointing after so long. i'm already working on the next chapter... i had origionally planned to make this a double update, but i couldn't bear to make you all wait any longer. i tried to weave in some of the manga's latest developments; so this is mostly that.

please enjoy.

* * *

Cross only had to wait a day for the Widow to call.

"Is Allen ok?!" she shouted over the crackle of the phone.

"Hello." Cross answered amicably. "It's good to hear from you Mrs. Walker."

"You son of a bitch…" she hissed. "Is my baby ok? I want to talk to him… let me speak to him right now."

"He's not here." Cross smiled at her frustration. "Sorry if my message worried you. It wasn't my intention. The boy is fine; he's progressing quickly in his training." Cross knew he wasn't going to get any answers until he eased her fears. "You should be very proud of him…"

"I am…" Maddie said softly. "I love him… I miss my baby. Is he eating well? Healthy?"

"I assure you, he's fine." Cross fingered the letter. "I'm doing a bit of research… Allen doesn't know much about his father's family, so he's not really helpful. I thought it best to go to the source. Madeline, dear, does your husband have any living relatives?"

"No." she replied. "Except his son… I had the baby. His name is Edward Mana. Please tell Allen that. He didn't know I was pregnant… tell him he has a little brother."

"Of course I will." Cross lied smoothly. He had no intension of even mentioning this phone call to his apprentice. "No other family though?" he was almost relieved. It really had just been a coincidence.

"None that I know of…" the woman replied. "We never talked about our families." She said thoughtfully. "We both had things about our pasts that we didn't want to talk about… so, he might have. But no, we only talked about the family we were going to start… god I miss him so much. Having Emmy was a miracle. After I learned just how sick my honey was… I made it my mission to conceive his child. Is it horrible of me to do something like that? I wanted something of him to keep with me…"

"Nothing wrong with that… love and grief make people do such things." Cross in some odd, uncomfortable way knew how she felt. "Is there anyone who would know if Mana did have any family remaining?"

"Nick has known him for longer than any of us… I can let you talk to him if you you'd like." Maddie made a suspicious noise. "Just what are you researching anyways?"

Cross smiled; she was a smart woman to be suspicious. He had prepared a cover story in advance. "It's about a will actually…" That part was at least true. "An old friend of mine with the same last name has passed on and left decent sum of money and assets; it's supposed to go to me if there are no living relatives. I thought it best to check with you seeing as if he was related to your husband, you would be entitled to it."

"I don't believe you." She said coolly. "I want to speak with Allen."

"Believe me or not… my intentions are noble." Cross wondered if he could win an award for his ability to lie. "I wouldn't feel right about cheating a widow out of what she's owed." There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Fine… I'll let you speak to Nick."

"Hello?" a masculine voice came through the phone. "Is Allen alright?"

"He's fine…" Cross tried to bury the irritation that was steadily creeping into his voice. "Did Mana have any relatives?"

"Yeah…"

_Shit… this isn't over…_ "Can you tell me about them?" _OK this could still be a coincidence…_

"I never met them… Mana only told me about them once. His parents both drown when he was little, they were musicians I think. Hold on a minute…" there was a rustling noise as the phone was set down. Cross drummed his fingers and waited for the man to return. "What is this about?"

Cross took a deep breath and tried to will cooperation into voice on the phone. "It's about a will." He started to explain again.

"No, I don't think so." Nick replied. "I think this is about something worse… Maddie keeps saying it's about those… monsters… that you told us about, before you took Allen. Is he in any danger?"

Cross paused. Dear Madeline was too smart for her own good. He changed tactics. "Yes… depending on what information I can find, you may be too."

"God damn you…" the man hissed.

"It may be nothing… I might be following the wrong leads…"

"What do you need to know?" Nick finally growled.

"Anything you can tell me about Mana Walker and his family." Cross picked up his pencil and waited for the man to start talking.

"I don't know much about him really. We met at the University. He was a lot older than me… but we ended up being best friends. He was really… messed up when I first met him. I just stuck with him because it was funny; didn't know what weird thing he was gonna do next. I thought he was nuts… but it was understandable. See, his little brother had just died…"

"He had a younger brother?" _Shit, shit, SHIT…_ Cross nearly snapped his pencil. "Do you remember what year it was?" Nick paused then said a year. _Well,… shit_.

"I never learned the kid's name… Mana wouldn't say it. Even though he was dead, he was still trying to protect him. My guess is that the kid was even crazier than Mana… he tried to kill someone or something like that. Mana was skittish, always looking over his shoulder, like he was expecting an attack around every corner."

"And what happened?" Cross succeeded in breaking his pencil and scrambled for a new one.

"Nothing… one day Mana just stopped being crazy. He was this whole different person; it was all of a sudden too. It happened over night. It was great; he was tons of fun to be around… everything a guy could ask for in a friend. I finally asked him about his brother… this part was weird. He didn't know who I was talking about. He looked at me like I was nuts. I didn't press the issue but, one night after we'd been drinking he called me 'little brother.' Since I 'seemed so set on saying he had one,' he told me that if I wanted to be his little brother he didn't mind. He called me that right up until the end." Nick paused. "That's about it."

"Thanks… this has been helpful." Cross replied absently. He was busy scribbling conclusions and theories. Things were adding up in a number of ways.

"So, are we in any danger?"

"What? Oh… not really certain…" Cross' mind was racing too quickly to be bothered with other's concerns. "Probably not. Keep your children safe… both yours and Mana's. Take note if anything strange seems to happen around them."

"Strange like how? Like with Allen?"

"Yes… like that but not…" Cross frowned at his notes. "I'll contact you if anything comes from this." He thanked them again for their help and quickly hung up the phone. "SHIT!" he pounded his fist on the table and allowed himself a moment of fury.

With a deep sigh Cross collected himself. There were too many options, too many possibilities. He stared at his notes.

_Theory 1: blood relatives. Will passes (at death?) Fourteenth to Mana. Mana to son. _

That brought up another question. Did the Fourteenth have to die to pass on his will? Mana's son wasn't born yet; so, if it did pass to the child, it would have to have been while Mana was still alive.

_Theory 2: 14__th__ to Mana. Mana to Allen. _

That was the simplest one.

_Theory 3: 14__th__ to Mana. Mana to Nick. Nick to child?_

The man did say that Mana abruptly started calling him 'little brother' one day. This suggested that the Will could be passed though while its owner was alive. Nick also had a child, so that poor babe was suspect now too.

_Theory 4: 14__th__ to some random shit he passed on the street._

_It'll be my luck it's that one._ There were a lot of possibilities there and he could still connect Allen to it. The Fourteenth could have passed it to anyone who would have contact with the boy… or perhaps some unlucky women who would bring him into the world. The Will could have been bounced around like some infectious disease before finally settling in its host.

He suspected Allen. It was just a dim suspicion at first but it was just too many coincidences to overlook; the brother of a Noah finding and raising a kid with a parasite type Innocence… and Timcampy just loved him. That was almost enough to convince him right there. The little golem never acted like that for him. Tim constantly flitted about the boy's head, sat on his shoulder and curled up on him to sleep. It butted his chin affectionately and adored him. It was designed to follow its master; Cross couldn't change that.

Cross wouldn't admit it, but he was terribly jealous. It used to be him that the little gold golem doted on. Clearly he remembered the days he spent assembling him; there were no instructions in the box. Of course Cross wouldn't have followed them if there were. It would be incredibly stupid for a General to blindly trust a Noah's gift.

The box came poorly wrapped with "Lot No.14" stamped on the side two weeks after he had last met with the Fourteenth. Tim was the best golem he ever used. He was fairly sure he had reprogrammed it properly. The inner mechanics of the little machine were beautifully simple, almost elegant. Cross hated to admit it but the bad guys had style. He had half a mind to catch an Akuma and see if they were equally well designed and if he could rewire them as well. If he had time he just might.

He stared at the sheet of paper. He had his theories but no way to really test them. There wasn't much he could do right now and, as incredibly frustrating as it was, he would just have to set it aside until more information made itself available. So much of life was a waiting game and Cross hated it. He liked to make things happen himself.

Groaning and stretching, he stood and went back to his room where his bags were. _Nothing to be done right now_… he assured himself as he worked open his bag. _Out of sight, out of mind… _His long fingers found the hidden compartment stitched into the bottom of the bag. There were many pieces of paper already stuffed there. If this kept up for much longer he was going to need a bigger bag. He hissed as one sheet ran over his finger at the wrong angle and sliced neatly. "I hate paper cuts!" he exclaimed harshly and pulled the offending letter free. He glanced at the letterhead. "Of course its you…" he sneered at the paper. "You would cut me."

He wanted to toss the letter out, but it would be setting a poor example for a General to pitch his orders. "Yeah… yeah, I'll do it when I'm good and ready." He told the accusing paper. He really had every intention to follow his orders; but only if they could be done in his own timeline. He crammed it back into its hiding place in his bag along with his list of theories. There would be time; he just had something more important to do first. His hand lingered in the hidden pocket, touching the other letter.

He couldn't bring himself to read it. It was too valuable, a holy relic. He should have washed his hands before even touching it. God forbid he sully the fine light pencil marks and make it unreadable. Cross pulled back his hand, disgusted by his own weakness. "It won't matter… I'm almost there."

It really was just a matter of time before he learned what he needed to. He was a few day's travel from the palace of the lovely wife of the Raja and his lover. He didn't love her but it was a nice place to stay and the woman gave him free access to her resources.

He would have the idiot pack up their things tonight and leave in the morning.


	12. Chapter 12

sorry for taking so long. here is the next chapter. i hope you all enjoy.

Cross couldn't seem to stop laughing. It was a totally perfect way to spend an afternoon. He had arrived at the palace weeks ago and oddly enough the idiot seemed to have made a friend. He could watch them all day. The brown skinned boy followed him about like a love sick puppy and Allen was completely oblivious. That was the funniest part, watching the frustration on the servant boy's face as every hint he sent was missed entirely.

If he didn't have something important to do he probably would watch them all day. He had tracked down the damned Magician last week. The man hadn't been happy to see him again. Cross managed to duck most of the things he threw and strong arm him into giving him some of the money he was sure he was owed. Then they got drunk together. Cross told him pretty lies. _I'm not trying what you think… this is just research. Dead means just that… dead. Of course I know you can't bring back a person without attracting the Earl. I just want to know how you would try… for the Order. They need the information. This is purely scientific work for the Order_. Then he poured him another drink. The lines about the Order seemed to do the trick. He finally had the Words; now he needed the body.

Cross wanted a drink, but drinking was against the rules right now, so was smoking. He wanted a cigarette so badly he could scream. It was a small price to pay really; anything for her. He needed to start fasting once the last drops of alcohol were out of his system. He needed to make his thoroughly impure body as clean as possible for the… event. Cross couldn't bring himself to say ritual. It sounded stupid; a lot of magic was like that.

Cross believed that was the main reason most people didn't dabble in serious magic. It sounded too stupid. For this 'event' Cross had to do some truly embarrassing things to prepare. No intoxicating substances, that even went as far as coffee and drinks and sweets with too much sugar. No meat, he could only have raw foods from the earth and then nothing solid for three days before the event. And the final blow, no sex. None. Nothing. Not even a little extra personal time in the shower. He could almost understand those parts, physical purity implied spiritual purity. Then there were rules that were just ridiculous. He couldn't let his hair touch the ground. That would be easy if it just meant not sleeping on the floor. No, he had to collect any hair that came loose in the shower or when he brushed his hair before it hits the ground. Any that came loose needed to be collected into a yellow paper envelope and burned in an open fire on the first full moon of the month. That was the simplest one.

Cross hated all those stupid little rules and for an 'event' like this there were a lot of them. He didn't know what half of them meant; he figured that the wise guys who wrote them just wanted a laugh. He was sorely tempted to ignore them, but then if the event didn't work he wouldn't even know which ones were the crucial steps. The scientific part of him mind wanted to try the event over and over; each time omitting one of the steps until he learned just what worked and what could be skipped.

He watched a fat beetle crawl across the table before him. _I could try with that… stomping the damn thing with my boot and trying to bring it back. Find out just how much of this crap I don't have to do_. Shiny black wings spread and it was gone. Cross sighed. _Or I could watch the rest of this train wreck…_

The servant boy had put an arm around Allen's shoulder as they sat under the tree. Cross chuckled as his apprentice casually elbowed the other boy in the stomach. He closed his eyes as he felt the beginning of a headache coming on. He hadn't had a drink in days and his body was suffering from it.

For years Cross had gone under the assumption that he could stop drinking at any time and had just never seen cause to try. Now he was paying for it. He knew what happened to men with dipsomania when they stopped drinking. He sighed; it was only going to get worse. An episode of the shaking deliriums was probably in his near future. "I'm gonna go lay down…" he mumbled to himself and dragged his suddenly uncooperative body back to his room; he locked the door. No one was going to see him go though the grisly process of withdrawals. He had a reputation to maintain.

His bed was pleasantly cool against his skin. Cross stretched and wondered if he could just sleep through the whole messy business and be done with it. Quickly he did away with his clothes and made as if to settle in for the night. Staring at the ceiling he listened to the rapid beating of his heart. It was far too fast. He laughed out loud; the sound echoed back off-key. "Is this it?!" he chuckled and drummed his fingers on his chest, idly trying to keep them in time with his pounding heart. "This' not so bad."

A fat beetle wandered across the side of his bed. "Oh no you don't." he mused and sent it flying with a flick of his finger. He sat up, suddenly intent on squashing the bug and looked for where it landed. He saw nothing; it must have flown off. "I hate this country… too hot, too many damn bugs and curry… I hate curry…"

The stupid wall hanging fluttered with the breeze. _I shut the window, didn't I?_ Cross watched the way the ripples in the fabric made the elephant look alive. The great grey beast winked at him and trumpeted. Oh hell no… The agitated general stormed across the floor and tore the offending cloth down. The nail left a hole in the wall. Beetles poured fourth like a black tide.

"Ah… here we go…" he sighed as the first round of hallucinations took him.

There were beetles everywhere. They covered the floor, climbed the walls and stole the safe haven of Cross' bed. He was left with no option other than to strike at them and scrub at his skin where they crawled. He lost his mask when the horrible, shiny black carapaces became something more sinister. The hole in the wall became a gaping maw where unspeakable things moved and hissed to Cross in a language made especially for him.

Minutes turned to seconds and seconds turned to decades. He couldn't bring himself to count or care.

Petal soft lips gently kissed him awake. Cross groaned. Everything hurt; he was lying on the floor with no clear memory of how he got there. "Is it over?" he croaked in a voice like sand paper.

"Marion…" impossibly sweet lips brushed his as she spoke.

He didn't dare open his eyes. This was the cruelest thing his mind could possibly have dredged up. Only one ever called him by that name. "Hey… Bel Canto." He whispered his special name for her and kissed back. "Have I died?" that was a very real possibility; withdrawals could be fatal. He hadn't expected to go to heaven in any case. Maybe the security at the front gate was really lax…

"No love… I'm afraid you're still breathing." Her voice was like music, like water. Just like it had years before, it slithered through him and caressed his very soul.

"Aww… songbird, then you're not real." He mumbled, even as he carded his fingers through her soft hair. "This feels real…" with a roughish grin he slid his hand down to her chest. "_These_ certainly feel real…"

She laughed and arched against him. "You know those are real! Marion, you dog! How many times do I have to prove it to you?" her laughter flitted around the room like a chorus of birds.

"Just a few more times, songbird… I'm an old dog, I don't have a good memory." His teeth caught her ear and nipped gently. He lapped hungrily at the soft skin of her throat, feeling her hum. She tasted the same as she always had, delicious. His delirious mind had really spared no expense. If the rest of his withdrawals were like this, he wouldn't mind at all. "Woof…"

"My, you are a dog!" her voice turned to velvet and rubbed enticingly over his skin. "If you are a dog, than what am I?"

"That's an easy one… if I'm a dog, then you're my bitch…" he smiled and waited for her beautiful fury.

"My presumptuous dog. One more guess." She purred in the voice of a lace covered dagger.

"If I'm a dog, then you must be my master… my mistress."

"Good doggie." She smiled loud enough for him to feel it. This was so much nicer than the bugs. "I'd set your hair all nice with a little bow… such a cute doggie you would be sitting at my feet with a pretty collar and leash..."

"Sounds like fun." He admitted. She was the only one who he would let himself play pet with. "I'll try that."

"And if you're good we can go for a walk in the park and you can sit with your head in my lap."

"Oh that's the best place for my head to be! I love how you think!" He ran his hands lovingly over her slim body and grinned wider; she was naked. "I wanna see you, songbird… but you're not real."

"Open your eyes Marion."

He obeyed. There was enough time for him to see the general shape of her body before the dark figure above him broke apart into a thousand skittering beetles. "Shit!" he screamed and frantically started trying to brush them off. "That wasn't fair!"

At some point during his mindless horrors, his idiot apprentice came in to check on him. Cross didn't recognize him and hit him with the leg of the table he broke off. It was one of the few things he remembered when he finally came back to himself. Cross came to on the floor again. His room was wrecked; broken furniture and torn fabrics littered the floor. _I pissed myself… thank god nobody saw that part._ As he took stock of his surroundings a deep unsettling calm washed over him. He was sober.

For the first time in the many years since she had died, he was completely sober. He instantly decided that he didn't care for it. Quickly he cleaned himself up and took a long shower. "I hate this crap…" he mumbled as he carefully dried his hair. The room smelled foul, like stale sweat and he wondered just how long he'd been in here.

Cross was surprised to see Allen fall in the room when he opened the door. The boy had been leaning up against it and with the sudden lack of support laid sprawled on the floor. "You're not dead…" he said dumbly.

"Obviously." Cross wanted to snap at the boy for being so stupid, but he was much too tired to put any real effort into it. His apprentice snickered. "What?"

"I'm actually glad you're not dead…" he giggled. "I didn't want to have to clean up if you had."

"Get in here." Cross snarled. "You're cleaning up anyways." He halfheartedly kicked at the boy; much to his irritation, Allen dodged but winced anyways. "What?"

"You hit me…" Allen frowned up at him. "When I came in to check on you… you were making a lot of noise." He gingerly rubbed his side. "Cracked my rib."

"Well you shouldn't have come in." Cross sat down on his bed. The sheets were still slightly sweat dampened. "Serves you right for disturbing me… where's Timcanpi?"

"Cat got him." Allen answered as he started picking up debris from the floor. "I got the cat shut in the kitchen. I'll get him back soon as the cat spits him up. Would you like something to eat?"

"No. Get me water… I have to skip solids for a few days." _Why am I telling him that? _

As if on cue the boy asked, "Why?"

"None of your business." The boy shrugged and didn't press further.

Over the next week, Cross grudgingly followed the requirements needed to ready himself for the event. The timing worked out perfectly. The day he went to the cemetery was the eve of their anniversary.

In the early evening air, Cross walked purposefully through the city's only Catholic cemetery. He had showered, trimmed his nails, styled his hair and put on his finest clothes tonight. They would be ruined by the end and for once he didn't care. He carried a bag and a shovel; if anyone had noticed they would know he was up to something. This graveyard existed only for the foreigners. Cremation was the standard practice for the locals; it was also the standard for Exorcists. He had personally seen to this burial, after the autopsy he spirited the body away and gave her a proper send off. He had always planned to do this.

Hers was a simple stone, marked as Beloved Bel Canto. Not her real name; Cross always felt a little guilty about that. She deserved her real name, but he told the Order that her remains were disposed of by fire.

He set down his bag of supplies and neatly folded his coat over another headstone, before pausing to catch his breath. The fasting had left him weak and miserable. He packed food for when he finished tonight.

"Hey, Songbird…" he touched her stone. "Tonight's the big night. Are you ready? I have the Words; this will work. This will take a bit to set up." He was talking more to himself now. "Let's get you out of there."

In silence, he took up his shovel and broke the ground. It was hard work; the earth was hard and jealously held on to the treasure buried in it. Shovel after shovel full of dirt he sent flying until her bed was exposed. Cross climbed out of the hole with a grunt. _I'm going to be in and out of this thing all night… _he mentally groaned.

From his bag he pulled his knife and neatly sliced his wrist. The memorized Words spilled from his lips. He walked a circle around the site, letting his blood drip on the newly turned soil and slid back down into the hole. He took a pinch of earth from the lid of her casket and swallowed it. Night was falling quickly and just as the Magician had told him, he could feel magic coalescing around him.

It was strange, a sharp prickling sensation over his skin. He smiled despite himself. _At least I know its working… something's working anyways._ It grew more intense as he stripped off his shirt and painted the symbols of the seven major chakra centers over his skin. This was where things could get dangerous. He was ready; anything for her. They had to be perfect in construction and location. A mistake would cost him this one chance or worse; call forth something he couldn't handle. He was staking his very soul on this. Cross' hand was steady; he'd been practicing this part for years.

He took up the shovel again. The coffin was surprisingly easy to break. He held his breath in anticipation of the smell of decomposition as he wrenched the upper lid off. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. The flowers Cross had wreathed her in had rotted and filled the air with a sickly sweet smell that turned his stomach. He stood and awkwardly raised his head out of the hole to catch some fresh air.

She looked dead. That was disappointing. Cross frowned; somehow he had naively expected her to look as if she was merely sleeping. It would have made the upcoming tasks a little easier. Still for so many years… she looks good. Like a true saint, her body was incorruptible; but she was still unmistakably dead.

Reaching deep within himself, Cross activated his Innocence. Judgment's familiar weight settled in his hand. He set it down; nothing told him to activate it. It just seemed right to. Part of him was operating on instinct now. From his bag he pulled the tiny length of chain he had prepared. On its end hung a small carved coffin of black ivory, her new resting place. The chain would bind them together.

"Songbird…" he smiled, his Innocence buzzing through his veins. It tripped over the magic he had summoned, roiling and doubling back on itself, washing over and through him. The Innocence held in the still body below him was beginning to stir. Though its host was dead, it was still very much alive. It was a parasite type and Cross would allow it to feed on him.

He sat on the lower half of the coffin lid and stared at her, momentarily caught off guard by the emotions he had forbid himself to ever feel again after her death. It had been a random and stupid death, unrelated to who she was and anything she had done. It was not the kind of death someone like her deserved. _Even now…_ he thought. _She's still beautiful_.

She wore the dress he had bought for her. She had died in it. He dusted the rotted husks of roses away from the black and red silk. Carefully he touched her blue-grey skin; it was cold as ice and just as hard, but he didn't stop. Fingers brushed the ribbon at her throat; he had tied it there. The Innocence in her voice box reacted to his touch. He slid his hand down to where hers were clasped in prayer. Cross pulled the rosary from dead fingers and twined it with the tiny chain he carried.

The power he had summoned was building to an uncomfortable pressure around him. _Better get on with it then._ He picked at his wrist to bloody his fingers. As he drew the symbols on her, he spoke the final Words. Those final Words would call her back, bind her to him; all the power she possessed would be his to use and command. Most of all, she would be beside him again. Cross smiled to himself. With this he had beaten the Earl at his own damn game. It struck him as odd that the last thing needed to call someone back from the dead was the same no matter what the method.

Boldly he leaned in and kissed the dead woman's lips. They tasted of cured meat, rancid, cold and unpleasant. It was disgusting. He didn't care.

"Maria."


	13. Chapter 13

sorry to take so long to update. i had a certain way i wanted to describe something and i'm only half satisfied with what's come out.

please enjoy.

Warning: one dropping of the f-bomb and implied adult situations.

* * *

At seventeen, Cross Marian was one of the Black Order's fastest rising stars. He was bold; he was resourceful. He followed his orders to the letter and got the job done, fast and flawless. He was also hopelessly in love with his superior.

She was twenty-five, eight years his senior. She was one of the Order's black widows. Cross kept track of her romantic interests. He made a point to know everything about her; just like every other man past puberty in the organization did. She went through men faster than any of the other Exorcists. They couldn't handle her. She was beautiful; she was powerful. She was practically a General. These were different times; women then no matter how strong could not be Generals.

Cross Marian was utterly terrified of her. She was the untouchable, unreachable ideal. He was shy, unable to even meet her dark eyes. All his boldness was in his fights, only bravado on the battle field. Inside the safety of the headquarters stone halls he was a soft-spoken and insecure teenager, a tough exterior hiding an uncertain boy. Years later, even those who had seen him as the tall, skinny youth hanging back from the crowd would deny on pain of death that he had ever been anything other than the hard drinking, chain smoking womanizer General he became.

The first time they spoke was the day he was assigned to her unit and she insulted him. "Little boy with an oversized gun… what are you compensating for, hmm?" She had laughed before gripping his chin. "I think you'll do nicely." Cross took it as a challenge. He worshiped her and was determined to become the kind of man she wanted.

Maria knew exactly what kind of man she wanted. Cross would have to earn the right to hear his name from her lips. She took the shy teen and groomed him. Skillfully she broke him down, humiliated him at every turn, and teased his mind and body. She tried to ruin him.

Cross was often left half naked and tied up where someone was sure to find him. Her Innocence had the power to control the bodies of others and she loved to use it on him, forcing him into unpleasant situations. She taught him new meanings of control. Maria was his Mistress in every possible way.

Cross loved it. He never broke, just adapted. She trained him to thicken his skin and sharpen his tongue. When discovered tied down to the bed by a housekeeper he didn't try and explain how or why he got there, just invite the startled woman to hike up her skirts and join him. When she used her Innocence to manipulate his body for her own pleasure, he smirked and let himself enjoy it before making it all sound like it was his idea. When she forced him into committing acts with other men and abandoned her control over him halfway through, he finished what was started. She taught him how to treat a woman and how to be treated by a man. Under her domination he lost all hesitation, fear and reservations.

Through her control Cross was liberated. The swagger he had on the battlefield followed him to everyday life; he knew just how much his body could handle and he was damn proud of it.

Maria was the only one he admitted to that Marian was actually his first name and not his last. He respected her enough to trust her with that information and was pleased when she never used it in public; she respected him that much.

The night he brought her roses was the night everything changed. It was the night she accepted his feelings and stopped treating him as her personal toy. Maria was a singer; it was in her blood. Singing was like breathing to her; if she didn't do it she would die. She had a habit of sneaking off to the opera house to perform.

The building would be packed as soon as word got out that Bel Canto would be making an appearance. Her Innocence was in her voice; it affected everyone. Grown men would weep at her ballads. Her hymns could make even the staunchest of atheists fall to their knees in prayer. Maria could pull and control emotions just as easily as she could control a physical body.

It was one of those nights that Cross snuck into the opera house and waited for the final bows and for the audience to leave. He waited in the empty front row for her; twenty-four long stemmed blood red roses in his arms.

"Marian…" she had said softly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Giving you flowers so you'll sleep with me…" he offered. "Trying to be romantic about it rather than groping you in the alley as usual."

Maria frowned. "You're not doing a very good job."

"Probably not… but I want to try." He had been readying himself for this since that first day and first insult. "I love you… even with all the shit you put me through, not that it's not fun in its own right, I love you. I want to do this properly. I want to court you like a gentleman."

"Stupid boy." She had already pulled the pistol from the back of her bodice. "If you wanted to do things properly you wouldn't have summoned that ridiculous gun of yours." Cross smiled mildly and pulled Judgment from inside the bundle of roses; he knew she would threaten him with her tiny pistol. It was her weapon of choice for earthly opponents and it wasn't the first time she had threatened him with it.

"I said I love you not that I trust you." He loved the way she scowled. "Come on put your cute little gun down and let's talk like adults."

"Not until you lower yours."

He sighed dramatically. "We both know how this is going to go… we stand here and stare at each other in a tense standoff until one of us looks away or fires into the ceiling and then we go have 'nobody-got-shot-sex'."

"I'm too tired for this tonight, Marian."

Cross made a thoughtful noise. "Let's just skip to the sex part…" Maria made a low sound and he felt the muscles in his arm start to cramp. "Or how about this…. You take these stupid roses that I was charged entirely too much for, say 'oh Marian they're my favorites, how did you know?' and then you let me take you out to dinner and show you how much of a gentleman I've become for you."

She smiled and lowered her pistol. "How did you know?"

"You always wear a rose in your hair… you use rose perfume. You like red." He vanished Judgment. "You're beautiful and delicate… and you have some seriously sharp thorns."

"You really are a romantic…" Slender black gloved hands took the waiting bouquet. Cross offered his arm and felt his heart soar when she daintily took it. "I'm glad I chose you… you've turned out quite well, better than I could have hoped."

They became lovers, partners, and equals in both battle and in bed. The years they spent together were the happiest of Cross' life. He decided to propose while they were on a mission in India.

Then she died.

Cross met the Millennium Earl for the first time in the cemetery after Maria was buried. They had a nice civilized chat and Cross told him in to uncertain terms to "Fuck off. I'll do it myself."

And he did.

"Marian?" the corpse questioned. His stomach rolled. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but this wasn't it.

Maria was well and truly dead. The thing standing with him in the cemetery was a corpse. It moved and spoke but it was not her. "You can't bring back the dead…" he moaned miserably. He had Maria's body; but that was all there was. Her soul was long gone; everything that made her what he loved was gone. He should have known this. He probably did know it was what was going to happen and chose to ignore it. He knew it; oddly, she knew it too.

"I know that look." The corpse soothed and touched his shoulder with an icy hand. It made him shudder. "You're disappointed aren't you?" he nodded, no sense in trying to hide it. "All things considered dear… you did something amazing tonight. You should be very proud; you raised the dead."

"But you're not you." He looked at the ground and resolved to cover up what was left of her eyes. He couldn't stand looking at the gelled raisins they had become.

"That's true… my soul is gone, my mind is here though. I remember how I felt and how I acted…"

"And that is really… really disturbing." It bothered Cross deeply. The thing sitting with him had no feelings, but it remembered having them. Maria was gone, but she was not forgotten. It touched his shoulder not because it felt love, but because it remembered feeling love in life. Its facial expressions as it spoke, the way it moved and gestured; it was all muscle memory. It was a creature of instinct; it reacted only as it remembered reacting in life. Cross sighed. It was no more human than an Akuma. Its behavior was as programmed as any machine.

"I died rather suddenly…" it remarked. "Did you find out what caused it?"

Cross almost smiled. Asking such a question was something Maria would have done. "Yes… I had a doctor do an autopsy before I buried you." He touched her dress over her stomach. "Here…"

"A child?" it asked, brows furrowing automatically as the body remembered how to look upset.

"Cancer."

"Oh…" she sighed softly. Even dead, Cross loved the sound. Her Innocence was almost permanently invoked. She had always spoken in a carefully modulated tone to keep it form affecting everyone around her. Her voice could do amazing things; Cross knew well from the times together in battle and in bed. She had taught him everything he knew in both.

"Yeah… it was everywhere… bloody amazing you lasted as long as you did." He mumbled, trying hard not to think of how strange it was to be telling her how she died. "Remember that little knot on the side of your head?" he rubbed his face. They had spent days trying to figure out where it came from. She had assured him that it was probably his fault for being to rough and knocking her against the headboard. They had laughed about it. Two days later, she was dead. "It had spread up there too."

"Ah… then that bump wasn't your fault. Sorry if I yelled at you." She patiently sat down, awaiting his orders like she never did in life. Automatically her slim hands arranged her skirt to fan out nicely. Little gestures like that made it easier to pretend there was something real left in that hollow shell. "It's late dear, do you plan on sitting out here all night?"

He stood; his head swam for a moment and forced him to pause. Maria's body stood. There was a sick wet sound and a loud thud as something hit the ground. Cross shut his eyes tight and groaned.

"Oh dear…" came the voice behind him. "Marian, my arm's come off."

He swallowed tightly; his stomach rolled. "Just… leave it. Kick it back in the hole or something." He didn't want to think about it any more than he had to. "We'll put a replacement on… try hopping around a bit…" he gestured vaguely. "See if anything else is going to come off." He listened, hearing the rustle of her dress as she moved and waited for anymore disturbing sounds.

"Everything seems attached…" She offered.

"Thank God for that…" he mumbled and ventured a glance back at her. The corpse was one-handedly trying to fix up her hair. "You're losing that battle there sweetheart."

"Give me a little time…" she said smoothly. "I can look more alive for you if I have a nice bath and some time to do my hair and a little make up."

"Great." He pulled out the twisted length of chain and her rosary. "This is your new bed…" Cross held it up for her to see. "You can sleep here until I call you out."

"I know. You've bound this body to you. I'm yours to use any time you see fit… dear I understand the magic that was done to me. I'm touched though… going to all these lengths to bring me back." She sighed. "You're really such the romantic…"

"Yeah." He agreed lamely.

The grin on the corpse's face widened. "You're still planning on sleeping with me."

"Yeah." He agreed miserably.


	14. Chapter 14

sorry fr the delay. here's the next chapter. i hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Master!" Allen screamed shrilly as he rounded the corner to the patio where Cross was making up for lost time sober and rapidly drinking himself into oblivion. "There's a dead girl in the room!"

Cross raised an eyebrow as his apprentice grabbed his coat sleeve. "Hmm…"

The boy slowed; he looked as though he'd seen a ghost. "There's a girl in your bed… a dead one." the General wondered if he should even respond. It was pretty funny to watch the boy try and explain the severity of the situation. "She's in your bed… DEAD. Why are you laughing?!" tiny hands wrinkled the edge of his sleeve. "We have to do something… she's dead!"

"Dead you say?" Cross was glad he was already drunk. He was already feeling much better. Sobriety made him do stupid things.

"Yes." Allen glanced to the number of empty bottles on the ground and table; he carefully enunciated every word, speaking slowly as if the man was stupid. "There is a girl in your bed… a dead one."

"In my bed…" Cross echoed, before breaking into a miserable laugh. "Good, that's right where I left her… I'd be worried if she was off being dead somewhere else…"

"Wait… you know she's dead…" relief washed over his pale face as he realized there was no way he could be blamed for the out of place dead body. "Did she die in the room? Is someone coming to get her? You already knew she was dead though?"

"Of course I know she's dead." Cross ignored him and grinned humorlessly. "She was dead when I brought her here."

Allen's face was priceless. It almost made everything worth it. "Wait… what?" Cross could practically see the cogs in his mind trying to rationalize what was said. "So…" he tried. "She died outside and you brought her in?"

"Oh… no, she's been dead for years. She was dead when I dug her up, dead when I brought her here, dead when I fell asleep by her and still dead when I woke up this morning."

"Wait… _what_?" Allen stepped back abruptly and started to wipe the hand he had used to grab Cross' sleeve on his shirt. "Master… you're just fooling with me right…" he looked green. "You didn't really…"

Cross threw his head back and finished his bottle of cheap rum in three gulps. He didn't have to answer to the idiot. It was too shameful to say out loud anyways.

"Oh my God…"

"God has nothing to do with what I did." He mumbled.

"She's got no arm…" Allen slowly walked backwards in horror. "And…. She's dead."

"I'm working on the arm thing… go down to the market and see if the doll maker's shop has finished my order."

"What are you doing… with a dead girl in your bed?" there was disgust in the boy's voice.

It made something in Cross snap. In a heartbeat he was up and before he'd even realized it had slammed Allen against the wall and held him pinned. The boy screamed at the sudden and violent movement. Cross didn't care; that little bastard had no right to judge him. If he got hurt, it was his own fault. He frowned at the struggling figure; now that he had him trapped, he had no plans of what to do next. He dropped the boy and stepped away. "Go see if my order is ready… we start training with her tomorrow whether she has both arms or not…"

Allen looked distinctly sick as he scampered backwards and out of Cross' reach. The General smiled as he started back to his room. That had been pretty funny.

Maria was just as he'd left her, one arm under her head like a pillow. If she wasn't so still she could have been just sleeping there. "Songbird?"

"Yes, Marian?" it answered immediately with out moving. It made his skin crawl. It made a sound like laughter; it was what he would have expected her to do. "You are right… the boy is fun to mess with. I didn't move at all and he was so worried." It changed the pitch of its voice and sounded surprisingly like Allen. "Miss? Miss, are you ok?' he touched my shoulder before he realized that this sleeve is empty. 'Miss?! Oh my God! Oh… shit. Shit! _Shit!_ Did her arm fall off?!' then he checked under the bed for my arm… 'oh shit… he's gonna blame me for this…' and then he ran off." It sat up and tried to fix its hair. "It was really… cute."

"Don't get any ideas…" Cross chuckled despite himself. It really was much easier to face her with more alcohol in his veins than blood. "I know what type of boy you like and you've already got me… you're too dead to try and break in another." He sat on the bed beside her and patted her thigh. "You can play with him though. I need to know what you can do… where your strengths are, how much you can still do… how I can use you to fight better and smarter than our opponents." He sank back on the bed, sickly thrilled when Maria's body followed and curled around him. "No weird things… you can't do anything like the things we used to do. None of that 'yes means yes, no means yes and sherbet means no' stuff. He's too young."

"You're protective of him."

Cross frowned. _Am I?_ "He's my apprentice. It would look bad if he died." He smirked. "I didn't say you can't hurt him; that might even be funny… just no… no adult stuff." The body next to him hummed thoughtfully. "Up…" he commanded. "Bath time, Songbird."

The body moved, standing with a liquid stretch like she did in life. The empty shirt sleeve trailed behind gracefully with the movement. Its hips swayed as it walked to the bathroom, enticing bare legs that were as cold as marble. Cross had stripped it of her ball gown the moment they had arrived at the room. He sent it to be cleaned; the fabric smelled of damp earth and death. The body wore one of his shirts in the meantime. Cross was determined to burn that shirt as soon as the dress was back.

This would be the second bath. Cross had been too sober to do it properly last night, too concerned with just trying to warm the icy flesh before letting it between the covers with him. It had been warm when he fell asleep. Fingers had combed through his hair. It did what Maria would have done. It sang. There were no words just a low vibration in its chest; it mimicked a soothing heartbeat. Like a child, Cross had fallen asleep to it.

He hated how pathetic that sounded. Now that sweet booze was flowing through him he felt much better. This bath had to be a bit more through. So far he had ignored the gaping hole in its shoulder, as much as something that severe could be ignored. He needed to clean it so the replacement doll's part could be attached. He brought a knife with him the bathroom.

"After we get you put back together and dressed up…" He found himself telling the body as it awkwardly disrobed and slid into the tub. "I'll let you get settled in your new bed and practice summoning you. I'm going to be really pissed if it takes a lot of magic to do that…"

"It shouldn't be too much of a strain." It replied thoughtfully. "Should I get my shoulder wet dear or do you just want to hack at it as is?"

"Let me try as is…" he knelt by the tub and examined the gaping hole. "Not too bad…" he mumbled. It really wasn't; it was a dry wound. _This is a shell…_ he reminded himself. _This is not Maria…_ Keeping that in mind helped as he cleared the shoulder socket of any remaining extra tissue. The ball joint he had specified to the doll maker this morning should fit fine. It would function as the original would. That was all part of the magic that moved the body.

He was still in the bathroom scrubbing the body when the idiot returned. "Master?" the boy's head poked around the corner. "I went to the shop like you asked… It was expensive for getting it done so fast. We owe them money…"

"No…" Cross countered. "You owe them money. Bring it in here if you have it." Allen set the doll's arm on the floor and slid it over to him, not wanting to come any nearer the body. The General couldn't really blame him for that. "Up." He commanded the body. Without sound it stood, water cascading down a cold but still perfectly beautiful figure; the boy at the door made an odd noise. "What?" Cross drawled. "You want to see her?"

"No!" Allen said far to fast to be believable. "Why is it moving?!"

"Magic." Cross started to laugh. "Don't tell me… you've never seen a naked woman before. What kind of boy are you?" he pinched the lifeless flesh, earning a light giggle from the body. "Well, come in here idiot. Maria won't mind… will you Songbird?"

"I've seen girls before…" the boy mumbled and made Cross raise an eyebrow. "Maddie was… I saw her." He was bright red.

"You can touch…" the body offered. "It's fine if you're curious. Boys your age are always curious. Come here dear…" when the boy didn't move, it started to sing. Cross smiled. He knew this song; it was soft and gentle, persuasive, meant to sooth. Allen knew nothing of Maria's abilities. It pulled him gently forward; his eyes were wide and panicked though. The body stepped from the bath, bare in all its glory.

"No thank you…" he managed weakly through Maria's control. "I don't want to… I know." He swallowed hard, visibly fighting the song moving him. "I know what girls feel like… Maddie let me. Maddie loves me and I love her too; she's my mum, so it was ok…" he choked as the corpse touched his face. "Dead! Don't touch me!" It traced his chin to still his objections and one handedly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his shoulder.

Cross had the sudden thought that he should do something. Allen was making pained little sounds, fighting its control. He remembered trying the same thing years ago when she was training him; fighting Maria's control was painful.

"Stop!" Allen found his voice and shrieked. "I don't love you! I don't want to touch you! _Don't touch me!" _he collapsed suddenly as Maria's hold on him broke. He would never admit it but Cross was impressed. It was a weak song and the idiot broke out. Maria didn't let him go, he actually broke free. That wasn't an easy feat.

If anything the corpse looked surprised. Cross grinned at it but he knew he needed to stop things from getting any weirder. Reaching down he grabbed his idiot apprentice by the loose ends of his shirt and dragged him back into the main room. "Breath…" he told the little body. "You're ok. It didn't do anything to you."

Allen looked up at him from the floor. "That was horrible." He breathed. "This is wrong… that thing in there is wrong…" the boy laid there and gradually flexed his fingers, his arms and the rest of his body experimentally. Cross ignored his movement and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Maria would wait; she had all the time in the world and he had something else fun to look into.

"Whose been biting you?" Cross grinned manically. Allen flushed deep red and tried to pull his shirt tight over his neck and shoulders. His thin arms didn't seem to be working right and with a sigh he gave up and covered his face instead. "Don't be shy boy… what sweet and soft brown skinned kitten has been gnawing on you?" he already had a pretty good idea of who was marking up the little idiot.

"It was an accident…" the boy lied. They look on his face clearly showed that he didn't expect to convince anyone.

"Right… you accidentally got a hickey." He lit a cigarette and drew a deep lungful of smoke. "You didn't seem interested in Maria… Is it that boy?"

"What do you care?" Allen snapped back. "That thing in there is dead… I don't want to be around it is all." His voice went soft and miserable. "And these were an accident. He won't do it again… just got carried away." He shuddered and curled in on himself.

"Damn it…" Cross hissed and stubbed out his smoke. All the potential fun and entertainment had just fled the scene. He had been looking forward to teasing the boy's blossoming romance, but it was too clearly a one sided affair. "You don't like what he's doing, do you?"

"Narein is my friend."

"That doesn't make you obligated to put up with shit you don't want to do." He leaned back against the headboard. "You can say no… you know that right."

Allen sat up to stare at him. "What do you possibly care?"

"Within the past couple of days I have single handedly violated every law of God and nature… I have no reason to possibly give a shit about anything or anyone but myself at this point." He didn't really know why he cared himself. "I don't care about you… but if you're really that weak, that you'll let someone take advantage of you like that, it will make me look like I a made a poor choice in taking you as an apprentice. You will make me look bad."

"It's all about you huh?"

"Of course it is… so, basically if it comes down to it… I will stop you from making a fool of me. As my apprentice your worthless body belongs to me, I won't let anyone else mess it up."

"I don't like that stuff… the stuff Narein wants to do." Allen admitted, suddenly candid. "It doesn't feel right."

"Then tell him to stop." He smiled. "And you are training with Maria tomorrow." The boy on the floor groaned.


	15. Chapter 15

sorry for the long time delay. i haven't forgotten this or any of my stories. this one is nearing the end though and i seem to be putting that end off.

Disclaimer: some swearing and implied adult situations.

* * *

Cross was impressed. Allen had fought wildly against Maria's powerful voice and though Cross would never admit it, he was almost proud of the boy's spirit. It took most of the morning just to wear him down enough for him to accept Maria's control.

It helped that the boy was already too tired to battle the corpse's song; he had a busy evening.

Late last night as Cross was returning from his duties as the lover of the Lady of the house, he had walked in on quite a scene. Allen was on his bed, clothing disheveled, eyes unfocused, face flushed, panting and mewling for attention. Cross had only raised an eyebrow as the boy sprawled back against the bed sheets with a soft moan, thin legs spread and utterly lewd. "Master…." He begged, running his hands over his overexposed pale skin. "Please Master… please take me. Fuck me, Master… please fuck me… fuck me hard…"

"Very funny Songbird…" Cross had groaned and pinched his nose in frustration. "Let him go."

"We were just playing." Maria had giggled as she emerged from her hiding place behind the bathroom door. Allen dropped limply, asleep or unconscious. "The boy is a deep sleeper… I just wanted to see what you'd do my love. The two of you would be beautiful together…" It seemed to pout. "He is very flexible. We could have had fun, the three of us."

"Not going to happen…you're a sick woman my dear." Cross frowned. "And don't take control of him without my permission." _It shouldn't be able to do that…I shouldn't have left them alone together…_ he had thought briefly.

"Well, love…" the corpse of Maria had begun shedding its clothing. "We can still have fun." It purred in a voice of liquid silk; as the sound poured over him Cross lost all rational thought.

In the morning he put Maria through her paces; oddly relieved that his apprentice didn't remember Maria playing with him. God only knew what else Maria might have made him do while Cross was out of the room.

As graceful as a conductor, she steered the boy through another set of acrobatics. "I'm not doing much…" the corpse admitted. "He knows how to do all these moves on his own. I give him a nudge and he does it." Allen was in a hand stand, paused and waiting for the next push. Somewhat used to the control by now, he glanced over to his puppeteer to see what was holding him there. "This is boring my love…" it purred.

"What about things he doesn't know how to do?" Cross asked. He needed to know what Maria could do; that was the whole purpose behind today's exercise.

"No matter how I push him, he won't fly. I can only magnify what a body is already capable of."

"You're right, that's boring…" he drawled. "What if he's injured?" Cross' mind sparked with a sudden interest. "Say he can't move under his own power?"

"I'm not sure…I know I can move him when he's asleep." the corpse answered sweetly. "We should try it. Dear would you like me to make him hurt himself?" it smirked. "It would be funny…"

Cross sniffed. "No… I'll think of something. If he's really hurt and you can't move him then he'll be more useless than usual. Maybe we can drug him… something temporary that won't let him move on his own."

"Like I used to use on you?" the body turned its focus to where he sat in the shade. Out on the lawn Allen collapsed weak and shaking on the ground as the supports holding him abruptly let go.

"Hate you both…" an exhausted voice carried over. "I don't wanna do this anymore…"

"Too bad." Cross chuckled. "Maria, let's do it all over again." A soft sigh of music poured over his skin and to its intended target. Allen howled and fought. Within seconds he was overpowered and hand springing gracefully across the grass. Under the song, Maria was laughing. It made Cross' skin crawl. The corpse was enjoying this. _It's just imitating what she would have done in life… its not Maria… _he assured himself once again.

The body was back in the dress he had bought for her. It looked so much like her, red and black silk gown, long gloved fingers carefully shaping the bonds her voice created as she sang. Cross had covered her eyes, binding them from his sight. It didn't need them to see; they were little more than shriveled raisins, useless and creepy to have looking at you.

"He is tired…" Maria remarked and put Allen into another back flip. Cross made a noncommittal noise, too focused on the actual test of its abilities and feeling a bit like he did during his stint in the Order's Science Department. The corpse was giggling. "He is still fighting me… so very tired. Poor tired boy…even now, he's fighting so hard. I like him, my dear. I want to push him harder."

"Go for it." Cross sipped his drink. It burned his throat pleasantly. _She's already moving him… How much further can Maria's control go?_

Out on the lawn, Allen faltered, stumbling as Maria's song changed. "I want control…" it hissed enticingly under the intoxicating melody. "Marian, let me take him, more control… deeper. He is so tired, my love, I'm breaking something…" the boy was suddenly still, his chest heaving. Cross' heart jumped to lodge in his throat; he set down his drink hard, practically slamming the glass on the table. _More control? Deeper?_ What in God's name was she doing?!

"Ohhh…" the body breathed, making Cross shudder involuntarily. "I broke through; I broke through all the little walls he put up to keep himself safe. Poor boy… _I have his mind_, Marian."

The corpse smiled brightly. "I couldn't do this in life; my soul wouldn't let me take a mind. It was too personal a thing to try; too dangerous for the one under my command. It's so beautiful inside him." it laughed brightly as Allen dropped to the ground.

"Your soul wouldn't let you…" he echoed. This was new. He didn't know she could do something like that. "Are we talking about mind control here?"

"It's deeper than that, dear…oh! He knows I'm here! He fights! So much to see… ask me anything my love. I can tell you all his secrets, his hopes… his fears… I can make him relive them one by one." its grin was manic, horrifying. "I've hurt him… poor boy, it hurts so very much. I could kill him like this. No… _I am killing him_. He is crying for me to stop… to just kill him…"

Out on the lawn, Allen was arched as if his back would break. Silent tears escaping from wide unseeing eyes and the sheer anguish on his face from the mental onslaught was enough to spur Cross into action. Maria was killing him.

"Stop." Cross said firmly. "Let him go now, Maria." It turned to gaze at him. "Let him go now or I will put you down… like a rabid dog, I will put you down myself." Judgment materialized in his hand. _This is too much… I've brought back more than just a body. Something else came along with it… _

Cross swallowed back the fury building in him. He had been so damn careful; he had planned everything to the very letter and still, _still _something had gone wrong. "I told you to move him, not… not this." This was mental rape; and he was going to stop it. "You will obey me, pull your control and do it nicely. Make all this a bad dream for him; understand? If he remembers any of this, he'll be worse than ruined and I'll have to start training him all over again. _I am not doing that!_"

The body moved, fast. A rush of black and red silk and it was standing, stepping back rapidly. "He pushed me out…" it said quickly. "He… he is not alone in there…" it stared at him through the fabric Cross had used to make a blindfold. "He is not alone in there. It pushed me out… it loves him; it heals him. It will not let him know what I did." Its voice cracked. "It _forgives_ me… he is so loved."

"What does?" Cross lowered Judgment. "What did you find in there?"

"I don't know… it's too strong." Its hands clasped, pleading. "Let me go back in; I must meet it…"

"No chance." Cross pulled the chain from around his neck and held it up. "I've given you too long a leash…" He spoke the Words; displaced air gusted as he used it to summon her coffin. The ominous black box rose from a ripple of nothing. He grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her inside. "Stay in here until I decide what to do with you." He lifted her soft gloved hands and fastened them into the stocks above her head in the coffin. "Bitch…" he mumbled as he slammed the lid. With an audible 'pop' caused by the air rushing to fill the space, the coffin returned to the void.

Cross slid the chain with the tiny ebony coffin charm back around his neck. He stumbled slightly. _Huh… it's heavy… stupid magic.._. That was a surprise. He glanced over to the lawn were Idiot was sprawled. _Damn… damn kid, damn corpse. Why can't anything be easy?_

Allen was awake when he reached him, his fingers idly pulling up pieces of grass. "Master?" he mumbled. His nose was bleeding all over his pale face. "Did I land on my head? My face? I wannna move but if I landed wrong something might have broken…"

Cross nudged him with his foot. "You're fine. Maria snapped you and you landed a little hard. You remember anything?"

"Flipping… then laying here. Something hurts, but…" he frowned. "Please don't have me practice with Maria anymore…it feels wrong."

"Yeah…" Cross took off his hat to smooth his hair. "We're almost done here." _I need to put some limits on Maria. Seal her abilities… maybe set some checks on her free will… _"Tell you what… I have one more thing I need to test. We'll do it tomorrow; go to you little friend's shack rest up and relax for tonight."

"What?" he stared up at him in confusion. "What are you gonna do to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you… just giving you a night off."

"What's the catch?!" Allen blurted out. "You don't do stuff like that! Just what are you planning?!"

"Plenty."

"I don't want to be around Narein!" Allen blurted out. "He's been acting weird… I don't like it!"

"You're going…" Cross nudged him with the toe of his boot. "If you don't like what he's doing then stop him… be a man and take control." The boy groaned with resignation. "Go clean yourself up." he ordered and left him there on the grass.

It was surprisingly easy to find the drug he had in mind. In less than an hour he had acquired the tasteless white powder Maria used to incapacitate and tease him with during their courtship. The man at the apothecary had leered at him suggestively and wondered aloud what woman he'd planned on using it on. Cross answered it was no woman and was mildly pleased with the stunned reaction.

He let a sly grin spread across his features as he spied the last part of his hastily formed plan to incapacitate the Idiot. The brown boy was sweeping the leaves from one of the palace garden's walkways. Cross clapped a heavy hand onto his shoulder. "Let's find some nice place out of this damn sun…" he tightened his grip and enjoyed the way the boy flinched. "We need to have us a little talk… man to man." He chuckled as he steered the youth into the nearest shed and shut the door behind them.

The youth stood frozen clutching his broom defensively, clearly terrified of him. It warmed Cross' heart. "Calm down boy…" he growled briskly. "I just said we're going to have a little talk… so far, I've got no reason to beat the living shit out of you." He pulled a couple of chairs and a portable table down from the wall. The boy seemed like he'd be pretty easy to manipulate and Cross saw no reason not to mess with him. "Come on, then. Have a seat."

He didn't plan on speaking first; instead he put on one of his better steely glares and waited for the youth to crack. Idly he wondered if his idiot apprentice felt anything for the boy. Not that it mattered, but Cross did find the youth fidgeting before him attractive in an exotic way. His skin was smooth and even toned; his bandaged arms hinted at a rough life. His face was lovely. Cross didn't like to use that word when describing another man but it was true. He stared at the boy's mouth; it was perfectly formed and he let himself imagine what it must look like to see those lips fastened on those of his apprentice. _Nice…_

"What do you want?!" The brown skinned youth finally broke.

Cross tried not to smile at the outburst. This was going to be fun. "I want…" he smirked unpleasantly. "To know just what on God's green earth is going on between you and my apprentice…"

The boy went as pale as his dark pigment would allow; he stammered out some weak and useless objections.

Cross snorted in a harsh laugh. The lovely boy was a terrible liar and now he got to call him out on it. "You left marks on him." he pulled off his wide brimmed hat and ran a hand through his hair; it was far too hot out.

"Obvious marks… what? Did you think I wouldn't notice that shit? The little idiot keeps coming in late, usually upset; it wakes me up! I'm behind in my work… work that requires a God damned abstinence program!" It didn't matter that that horrible part was over now, he was still peeved at the memory, and all the time he lost to it and the gross parody of the woman he loved that it brought back. "No wine, no sex, no cigarettes, no sex, no wine until everything is finished! Do you have any idea how difficult that is?! And I have to deal with an upset kid… I'm thinking this is your fault."

The boy tried to sink down in his chair and looked guilty enough to make Cross pause. _How much _have_ they done?_ "Look…" he said in a tone that tried valiantly to be sympathetic but still came across as massively pissed off. "I'm not mad at you… or at Allen about this. I remember what it's like at your age… and hell, even in my weaker moments I've considered the kid as an option…"

"Don't you dare…" the boy hissed. "Don't you dare touch him!"

There was a little spark. Cross had touched a nerve. "Don't worry…" he made a distasteful sound. "There isn't enough alcohol in this country." He smirked unpleasantly. "You my boy have got it bad though. I need my stupid apprentice able to help me and until you and he get things settled he's more useless than usual." He let his grin become slightly feral. "So, I'm going to help you out."

Casually, Cross reached into his coat and produced a small white envelope. "I'm going to help you work things out… this will be good for the both of you." He tapped the little packet. "I'm sending Allen over to your little shack tonight. Put this in his drink."

"No!" the youth shouted. He was horrified by Cross "I'm not going to do something like that to Allen! I would never… never do anything to hurt him!" The boy's indignant anger over a simple spiked drink was pretty entertaining.

"This won't hurt him… it will just help him relax. He probably won't even remember it in the morning, but the both of you will be much more relaxed and then I can get my work done."

"I'm not going to do that!" the youth snapped. "I won't hurt Allen!"

_Oh… _hurt_…not drug, but hurt. Not exactly what I meant but… alright. We can play that way._ Cross' face became serious, one of his better icy glares. He knew; he practiced it in the mirror regularly. "I don't care what you want to do. I want you to wreck that kid. Tomorrow morning I expect you to have to carry him back to my room. I want him unable to move." _Wonder if I can make him cry…?_

"No!"

"Then we have a problem. I need him too wrecked to move." He gave an odd sigh and wondered if he should have tried acting as a profession. "I suppose I could just do it myself then…"

"You wouldn't!" the boy leapt to his feet with enough force to knock his chair back and crash it loudly to the floor. His eyes were wide with anger.

"Don't presume to know what I would and wouldn't do." he whispered far more dangerously than any shout could ever be. He pushed the packet across the rough wood of the table. "I'm giving you an opportunity here. Allen will be going to your little shack tonight. You will carry him back to my room in the morning." He tapped the magical little packet for emphasis. "It won't hurt him. Do this or not… your choice. Just bear in mind that if Allen can walk tomorrow, I will make it so he can't. That would be… unpleasant for all of us I think." _I know the side effects of this stuff… last thing I need is to see that brat all hot and bothered… what a pain this whole business is…_

He stood, stretched and stormed out of the little shed. _Well… that was fun. I'm the king of all bastards. _


	16. Chapter 16

Gee... only 3 years since i last updated? seems like less... or at least it does on the author side of things. i'll vaguely assure my poor long suffering readers (those that are still hanging in there anyways) that i will get this done. there is only a couple chapters left anyways. i have the next one mostly written, hopefully get it posted in the next month or so.

usual warnings apply as usual.

* * *

Something was hitting the door. Timcanpy stirred, lifting one slender golden wing from his place at the table on top of the General's hat where he was napping. The loud repetitive thud was enough to give the great General Cross Marian a migraine. If he ended up with a migraine, he was going to horribly mutilate the guilty party.

He rolled off the bed, yanked on his pants and a clean shirt and fixed his half mask in place. _Make myself presentable... maybe its that cute dancer. No. Probably just the Idiot... I might just kill him today._ With a deep frown he crossed the room and pulled the door open.

Allen fell just inside the door frame. "I hate you, you know that?" he stared up him glumly from his place on the floor. "That was not funny... and I can't move very well."

"Ah..." Cross chuckled as he took in the boneless youth before him. "So you took it eh?" He stepped back a bit, giving him room to drag himself in fully. Tim had zipped to him, darting excitedly above the boy's face. "Get in here... if you think I'm going to help you boy, you're sorely mistaken."

With a great effort the Idiot rolled himself over and began slowly inching his way into the room. "What did you give me?" he gritted out as the golum alighted on his forehead. "Yes, hi Tim. I missed you too... I feel like lead... Narein had to carry me back here."

"That was the idea, basically." Cross shut the door behind him. "I almost expected that boy to chicken out, but he really gave it to you huh? How was your evening?" he tried not to laugh at the death glare his apprentice was sending him from under Tim's wings. "Did you two have fun?"

"I want a shower." Allen flushed hotly. "You knew what that stuff was going to do to me didn't you?"

"That I did."

"Narein said you were evil..." he rolled his eyes and tried to shake Tim away. The little creature was trotting worried circles across his forehead. It clearly adored him; the display was enough to make Cross lose his smug grin for a moment. "But then I already knew that..."

"Sooo... did... you... two... have... a... good... time?" pronouncing each word carefully, Cross pressed him for information purely to satisfy his own curiosity and further annoy the boy. He clearly had a hickey on his neck. Something interesting must have happened. _Ah to be young and horny..._

"I told him to never come near me again." a touch of something like sadness crept into his dull voice. "That... you...You!" his eyes flashed, suddenly furious with some inner realization. "You told me to stop him! If I didn't like something... you told me to stop him. To, what was it? Be a man and take control?" with a great effort he hauled himself to his knees, clinging weakly to the table above him for support. Timcanpy fled back to the safety of the hat on the table and crawled under it.

"But how could I stop him when you gave me that stuff!" His strength gave and he crumpled back to a boneless pile on the floor. Weak. Pathetic. "How could I possibly stop him like this?!"

The boy's voice cracked pathetically. "I can't stop anything..."

"Shit." Cross ran a hand though his long hair in irritation. This wasn't fun anymore. A couple of loose strands came out tangled in his fingers. The kid was making his hair fall out. _I don't need this shit..._ He was going to go bald at this rate. That was unacceptable. He knelt by the boy and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him. Pale eyes began watering, half from frustration and half from Cross' painful grip. He was trying hard not to meet his gaze. "What did he do?"

Cross prided himself on being a fairly good judge of character. He didn't think the lovely brown skinned boy would actually do something if Allen didn't want to. He didn't believe for a second that he would actually hurt him. By now the boy had surely known to say no, or fight. He could fight now, Cross was sure of that. The brat was much stronger now, much more than the broken bloody husk he had seen in the graveyard.

"Look at me." he commanded a bit more harshly than intended. Allen's tears were running over his fingers, his face stricken. "Are you... no, you look at me boy! Did he..." Cross swallowed awkwardly around a word he suddenly didn't want to say. "Did you say no to him?"

Allen made a choked sound. Either unable or unwilling to answer him. Something had certainly happened. He was going to find out what it was... or else.

Cross grunted and decided that his apprentice's unwillingness was cause enough. He let the boy's head return to the floor with a thump and set about unfastening the buttons of his shirt. "Shut up..." he growled over Allen's abrupt screams of protest. "You don't want to answer me after practically shouting it, so I'm looking." The thin chest hiccuping before him was covered in little hickeys and love bites, but no signs of worse violence. He unfastened his leather belt and the button under it. "Last chance to talk..." his hands settled on the waist band of his pants, ready to pull them down.

"I hate you." Something dark peered out at Cross from behind pale eyes. The little body tensing as he tried to fight the after effects of the drug. "_I hate you!_"

"Good." Without ceremony he yanked the rough work pants down. The boy became very quiet; his pale eyes burning furiously. His skinny legs were mostly bruise free, nothing that couldn't be explained away by his work or training. Any real sign of damage would still be covered by his boxers. He wouldn't remove them, but Cross was more than ready to reach under the fabric, ready to check for blood or other base fluids between his thighs. As much as he hated it, he was also ready to hunt down and savagely beat the brown skinned boy.

A weaker man would be worried; Cross Marian was not... _Damn it_, he knew what kind of man he had become.

"Answer me or I look." he ordered, fingering the edge of the loose cotton. "I'm guessing by the way you're carrying on that you told him no... did he continue? Did he... force himself on you?" The words sounded almost awkward as he spit them out. He still couldn't call it was it clearly was. _Do I need to go kill him? Messing with my stupid apprentice... that's almost as bad as messing with me..._

"Narein touched my Innocence." Allen said softly, the dark thing lingering in his gaze drifted away as if it had never been there. He sagged and abandoned the fight. "I told him not to... to stop, but he didn't. I didn't want it. My Innocence... I..." his whole body seemed to flush. "You _know_ what its like..."

An unexpected sense of relief washed over the General. Quickly he stood and grabbed a cigarette from the table, busying himself with the act of lighting it and taking a deep pull. Anything to hide the relieved look that he was sure was on his face. He frowned, finding that he was still angry at the other boy. There was no way he could have known what he was touching or how terribly intimate Innocence was to its host.

"Did it hurt?" Cross purposefully ignored the half dressed body on his floor. "You didn't let it invoke, did you?"

"Of course I didn't... can I get dressed now?" Cross grinned inwardly at the embarrassed tone of his his apprentice's voice. It was much better to feel the glee of making others miserable than then disgustingly soft emotions like concern. He refused to admit that the Idiot's well being had worried him.

"Dress yourself. I'm not your mother."

"Force himself on me... God..." he groaned, trying to move again. "Who talks like that..."

From the corner of his eye, Cross watched his apprentice feebly reach down and try to fix his pants. "Would you rather I say raped?" The word came easily now that he knew it wasn't the case. "Fucked, perhaps? Or maybe 'Good morning my useless apprentice, how was your evening of unwilling sodomy?' How crass..."

Goosebumps broke out across his body as he felt a rush of power behind him. His own Innocence thrumming a warning as he sensed boy's activation. In an instant his legs were knocked out from under him by the twitch of a sharp elongated finger. His chin slammed on the edge of the table as he fell.

"What the hell?!" he tasted copper and spit the partial remains of his cigarette out. Loose tobacco clung to his tongue.

"Don't talk like that..." Allen stared at him from the floor, eyes slightly surprised by his own actions. "You're not funny. Don't talk about me like that... you don't get to talk to me like that..."

Cross pushed down his rapidly growing fury. _How dare that little shit trip me..._ Even under the drug, Allen's Innocence was able to activate. It could do little more than twitch from its place on the floor, but there it was. That was still impressive. He glanced at the transformed finger that brought him down.

"What was that?" he said coolly. "I thought you couldn't move... you better have a very good explanation... or I may have to put your worthless hide through the wall."

Allen looked miserable for a moment before his expression hardened. "You don't say those things! Not after you sent me over there... you knew exactly what was going to happen and you sent me anyway!"

"Wait what?" Cross shifted where he sat on the floor. He had the odd thought that the boy might just knock him over again if he tried to get up. Of course he would have to kill the kid if he did.

"Alright. I knew how that medicine would make you feel. This is true. And knowing that, I still sent you to that boy's..." He let his lips form a evil leer. "Would you have rather stayed here? In that drugged state? Feeling like that? With me... with Maria?"

Allen's eyes widened as he imagined it. "No." he frowned, but much of the strength had left his voice. He knew tripping Cross was a huge mistake regardless of the reasons behind it. "Still... don't talk like that..."

"Sorry kid." Cross stood and made a show of brushing off his clothes. "You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot say." He stepped over the boy's still transformed arm. "I'm still your master." Pulling back his leg he planted a sharp kick to the Idiot's unprotected side to remind him.

He groaned from the impact and his arm reformed. Both transformations were smooth; worlds better than before. _I'm still his master..._ Cross reflected. _Not for too much longer it seems..._ Allen's control seemed better, but he still needed to be tested in actual battle.

"Let's get this over with... On Gata..." Cross closed his eyes began reciting the Words to summon the Grave of Maria into the real world. Magic rippled through the air of the room, moving out of the way for the materializing object. The black obelisk rose from nothing. For a moment Cross felt dizzy, a weight he had forgotten he was carrying was lifted. _Damn magic.._.

"Oh..." the boy on the floor groaned. "Oh no... not that thing. Please, master I... I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry I tripped you so don't... not that thing..."

"She has a name." Cross grumbled in between the Words to release the bindings and free the corpse Maria. "You need to be respectful to her."

"Ohh noo..." Allen was panicking, trying hard to keep his voice even. "Please... I don't like this. Don't let that thing...NO _her_. _Her_. Don't let _her_ touch me. Please... she'll get in my head and it hurts...she'll rip me apart..."

Cross growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. His apprentice was terrified of Maria. He was already planning to put limits on her, but somehow the Idiot's whimpering confirmed its necessity. "Maria."

"My love." liquid music crept over his skin. She was free and curling around him, unfettered from gravity itself. Icy cold hands pulling at his clothes, his mask, running through his hair. They kissed, icy lips pressing hard and possessively against his. It was enough to make his own skin feel feverish by comparison. As badly as he wanted to, Cross didn't let himself shiver. That would only encourage her. "What kind of song shall I sing for you?"

"Make the boy stand." he ordered, forcing her body away from his and hating how badly the corpse affected him.

"Is that all dear? Really, you know we could..." an icy hand was trying to slip past his belt and into his trousers.

"No." he cut her off. "Just make him stand. Nothing else."

He could hear the Idiot whimpering over Maria's song. Cross scowled at them both as the boy climbed to his feet.

"Good... alright Maria, lend him the strength to move as he wants." The corpse was frowning now, deeply displeased to not have full control. "Useless... move."

Allen took a nervous step forward before smiling slightly and walking to the table to fish Timcanpy out from his hiding place.

"Well, how is it boy?" Cross watched him play with the little gold golum's wings. His movements were slow but confident. "You have control? Is she directing your movements or is it all you?"

"Its me. I still don't like this. I'm fighting to keep my hands..." he gritted out, sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. It was obviously a strain.

"What's she trying to make you do?"

The boy shot him a glare. "Guess."

Cross cracked a smile before he could stop himself. "You still want to take that shower?"

The boy answered with a single carefully raised finger.


End file.
